


anything under the sun

by orphan_account



Category: The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Nico Dies, Nico Feels, Nico With Trauma, Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson Friendship, Poor Nico, but only like temporarily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23533546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nico's pain and misery, which was never that fully described in the books.  Also, his shame about his sexuality, which stems from the stigma of it when he was a kid.   Basically an imagining of what the author left out- how Will and Nico got together.EDIT 6/20/20: I am very very sorry, but this is on hiatus while I finish my two other fics... it might take a few months, but I won't abandon it!  (i ain't no Merope Gaunt).
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 1
Kudos: 104





	anything under the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a work in progress, if you have any suggestions or anything, let me know in the comments. Also, this is rated T for some kissing and make out action- this *might* change if I get the urge to include some smut, but if so that should be minor and not really that explicit.
> 
> UPDATE: rn this is on hiatus until I finish my two other fics... might take a few months! hang in there! i'm so sorry, seriously.

It looked like rain outside, which was pretty much impossible. It never rained at Camp Half-Blood, Nico was pretty sure. 

But then again, how sure was he? He didn't really know Camp like some did- like Annabeth, like Percy (the thought of him brought a faint wave of something. He was over Percy, but there would always be something there. _Something…_ Percy had been his sole focus for years. Nothing, not even time, could ever erase that completely.) like Will. Thinking about Will brought even more confusion, and Nico screwed his eyes shut, sitting back in the bed. He’d been in the infirmary for a day now, and Will had prescribed prolonged bedrest as the only solution for the exhaustive, shadowy, transparency that overcame him sometimes. Argh- there it was again, thinking about Will.  


But really, what was there to think about Will? Nico remembered the way he’d reacted when Nico had said he was going to leave Camp Half-Blood, as if he hadn’t wanted Nico to go. _A friendly face,_ he’d called Nico. A friendly face- what did that mean? Was he even, did he… The word _‘gay’_ Nico still couldn’t say, even in his mind. Growing up as he had, in the time he had… the shame of it still permeated him sometimes. 

Thinking about his childhood always brought shame back, the bad feelings he’d tried to drown in the alien sensation of having friends, of maybe actually having people who cared about him besides Bia- no. He wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ think about her.  
But he couldn’t help it, he never could, and the thoughts flooded him again. 

He knew that the reason she’d died wasn’t all Percy’s, it was also his. She’d dumped him, essentially, dumped him like trash at Camp Half-Blood because she’d been sick of him. She’d wanted to join the Hunters because she’d hated him, thought he was annoying. That stupid game- Mythomagic. And when he’d tried to bring her back, she hadn’t wanted to come, but why would she? Of course she hadn’t wanted to come back to see the brother she’d thought was a burden, an annoyance. At least death was a release, some sort of peace.  


Self-hatred flooded him like the waters of Acheron- pure misery. Nico opened his eyes in an effort to blot out the misery. He was done with this, he was done, _come on_. He was finished with the self-hatred, he was better now. Nico had a sister now, even if it wasn’t the one he’d always wanted back, he had Percy, even if it wasn’t in the way he’d always wanted, he had friends, even if there was one that he thought of more than others. _Will._  


_Hazel. Hazel Reyna Percy Annabeth Jason Hedge._ He recited the names of people who may have cared about him in his head, a holy litany. Nico knew they barely thought of him, probably never did, honestly, but he was pretty sure they would care if he died. Or something. Whatever the son of the Underworld did when he was done with life. (He thought about it when the pain was too overwhelming, which was often- would he ever get peace? Before he’d known that he was quite literally a child of the dead, he’d thought of death as a peace, a respite from the struggles of life, but he wouldn’t even get that. Maybe he could be reborn, as something else. Not a demigod. Normal. Straight.)  


Nico didn’t know why there was so much pain in him, why he couldn’t just get over it. He had friends now, didn’t he? Thinking about pain, though, brought back Tartarus. Traveling Tartarus alone, numb besides the pain inside him ( _Bianca never loved me, Percy never will, Hades can’t _) being trapped in that jar, pomegranate seeds his only sustenance.  
__

__It was blinding, all-consuming. Nico had to get out- another second of this and the dead would start rising from the ground, polluting the hospital.  
As much as people- Will - pretended to be okay with it, he knew that it disgusted people, and why wouldn’t it? He didn’t blame them, he disgusted himself most of the days. Nico closed his eyes again, drawing on just a filament of that power, and a dead leaf rose from the ground. __

__Nico drew a pen from his coat and scribbled on it, teeth gritted against the brute force of his misery: _Sorry. Have to go_. He left it on the bed and tore out of the infirmary. No one noticed him, the patients were all sleeping or reading or just oblivious. _ _

__Either that, or he’d already become one with the shadows. It happened sometimes- like now, he realized, as the sunlight passed through his skin like he was nothing. He used it to his advantage, hurtling past people (and occasionally through them) to get away._ _

__There was a hill, a little bit past the woods, where he used to go before, when Percy and Bianca were off on their quest and he’d missed them- and he’d made it. The hill- his hill, he’d liked to think of it - was never sunny, which he liked. It was shadowed by the trees behind it, and if Nico concentrated, he could occasionally bring the clouds over it, to shade it even more. That wasn’t needed in this case, though- he’d been right. It did look like rain. Rain beat his hair, his coat, which was gradually solidifying again. Nico shivered- even if he was one with the shadows and the dead, he could still feel the cold. _Think about the good._  
_ _

__He thought of the one time he’d been kissed, by a mortal boy who hadn’t known about gods and monsters. He’d just seen Nico. Theirs had been a two day fling, but Nico had emerged from it knowing things that he would never forget- how it felt to run his fingers through a boy’s hair, what said boy’s mouth felt like. It had been hard to leave him, but he’d been in love with Percy still, and on a mission, and days after it, he’d been in Tartarus, anyway.__  


Tartarus- pain. He _hated_ these cycles, he hated falling into his thoughts and getting lost, but sometimes, it was better to just let the waters close in over his head. Nico curled up, his back against a tree, and let the tears flood him, let himself fade to a wisp of shadow.Bianca, Acheron. The people who’d never wanted him. The shame, the self-disgust at himself, when he’d found himself looking at posters of Clark Gable instead of pinup girls, the fear, how his church had called homosexuality a sin. Was it? Could he get sent to Tartarus again- no.  


____

____

Nico let the pain and misery consume him until he was a small as a mouse, just a spot of shadow, let the rain beat his face. _You are nothing._ Sleep washed over him after that.

* * *

Nico. Six hours later and Nico was all Will could think about. Will rolled his shoulders, yawning, fighting a blush Nico’s face sprung to his mind. Hair falling in jet-black clouds around his pale face, cheekbones startlingly apparent, dark eyes. “I’m done with my shift,” Will informed the nurse, Leia. She was a daughter of Iaso, a minor goddess who was in turn a daughter of Asclepius, the god of healing. She was good, extremely so, her hands never-failingly precise as she assisted him in surgeries, and a wave of gratitude washed over him. Will made sure to smile at her, and she smiled back, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.  


His feet found their way to Nico’s bed automatically, and, yawning, he looked down- to see an empty bed. A leaf, something scribbled on it, was the only occupant. Fear and irritation- had he decided that he wanted to leave, after all? - wove through Will as he plucked the leaf from the sheets. _Sorry. Have to go, _it read. Fury rose in Will. _Sorry. Have to go._ That was all? Nico thought that was _enough_? Fury- and then, worry. Will slipped the note in his pocket, making sure not to crush the crisp, crunching, leaf. He ran back to Leia, saying breathlessly “Have you seen Nico?”  
Leia leaned against the counter of the front desk. Will noticed, distractedly, that she was quite pretty, even in the scrubs- green eyes, red-brown hair framing her golden-tanned face. He’d always liked boys and girls, but no one really knew.  
__

__“Nico? Nico di Angelo? Son of Hades?” Leia asked.  
Will nodded, furiously. Leia frowned. “He’s not in his bed?”  
Will shook his head. “I think he left.” Together, they made their way to Nico’s bed. He was, of course, absent. Leia sighed. “I’ll check the security camera.”  
_ _

____

____

Will followed her to the tech room. “We have a security camera?”  
Leia glanced back at him, her lips curving upwards. “I thought it would be useful. My dad kind of specializes in that sort of thing back home.”  
“Huh. And they work?”  


Leia nodded. They were at the tech room, and Will watched as Leia fished a key out of her pocket and opened the door. Leia strode to the computers, keying a few commands in, and Will watched as she flicked through several hours of Nico-less footage. She stopped. “There he is.”  


Will grabbed a chair and swung onto it, straddling it with both legs, and leaned forward, watching the clip intently. Nico was in his bed. His face was still, his eyes closed, and then he tensed up, pain in his features. Will watched, a sick guilty feeling in his stomach as Nico struggled with an apparent acute physical pain, before getting out of bed, slipping his feet into boots. And then he was gone.  


Will stiffened- “Where the hell did he go?”  


Leia squinted. “There he is- see?” Leia pointed to a darting shadow. It moved impossibly fast, out of the hospital doors.  


“ _Damn_ it!” Will buried his head in his hands. Leia stood, concern in her face.  


“Do you have any idea where he went?” Leia asked. Will shook his head.  


“This is bad,” Leia whispered. I know, Will thought miserably.  


“He’s the son of Hades- the damage he could cause…” Leia continued.  


Will looked up. “That’s not- what?”  


Leia looked surprised. “Nico di Angelo is out there, presumably in some sort of pain, from the expression on his face, I don’t know why, maybe some sort of battle wound that we didn’t see- and roaming free. I know that you two are on friendly terms- I’m not saying he’s evil, I know he was on our side - but do you have any idea of the extent of his powers? He could have Camp Half-Blood looking like a scene from The Walking Dead in minutes. We need to find him- he could put us all in danger.”  


_Nico? Put us in danger?_ Will felt stiff.  
“Leia, you have duties right now. People could be dying… you should get back to your shift. I’ll find him. I promise.” Will said eventually.  


Leia frowned. “I don’t think…”  


Will suppressed an annoyed sigh. “I promise. If I don’t in the next… five hours, let’s say, we’ll notify Chiron.”  


Leia bit her lip. Will held her gaze.  


“I promise you, okay? Do you trust me?” Will said in a low voice.  
Leia flushed- she did that a lot, but Will didn’t have the time to think about it at the moment - and nodded.  


Will took off.

* * *

He’d been looking for hours. Nico wasn’t in the Hades cabin, or in the lake, or reading by the library. The woods- Will didn’t want to venture in there, the monsters and the shadows seemed like something out of his nightmares, although he’d never admit it, but he knew what he had to do. Stopping to get his celestial-bronze bow and arrow, Will set off.  


Rain- rain, which never struck camp, was lashing the trees. Cold shuddered through him, and his scrubs were soaked. It was dark, but not as dark as he’d thought, and he managed to keep from screaming when a shadow slunk from behind him- his heart had leaped, but it had just been a squirrel. Eventually, he’d determined that Nico wasn’t there, either. Frustration warred with fear- what if something had happened to him?  
Will walked towards the light, figuring it was the way out of the woods, towards camp, but as he emerged from the woods, he realized two things.  


One, he was on the other side of the woods, on a green hill.  


Two, Nico di Angelo lay crumpled under the lone tree on the hill, soaked to the bone. The cold, the rain, combined with the strain of the shadows- Will ran to him.  


Hypothermia, maybe… “Nico? _Nico_!”  


Nico didn’t respond. He was asleep, Will realized. Will knelt next to him. Wet mud soaked through the knees of his scrubs, but he didn’t care.  


“Nico!” Nico stirred awake, eyes fluttering open, eyelashes long and dark against his pale skin. Sometimes Nico reminded Will of a princess, of some delicate, ethereal, fairy-like, creature. For a split second, Nico’s face lit up sleepily as he saw Will, drowsily smiling, and in the next second, it was gone, his face slamming shut. The rain hammered even more insistently, soaking both of them. Nico shook himself free of Will, familiar uncaring scowl returning to his face. Will’s nerves thrummed; he felt as if he were about to die or burst apart in a million butterflies. Will felt cold, alone.  


“What are you _doing_ here?” Will asked, angrily.  


“I could ask you the same question.” His voice sounded hoarse, not its usual velvety drawl.  


Will clenched his fist. He had a feeling that Nico knew just how much this pissed him off- _knew_ , and took pleasure in it, but-  


There were tearstains on his sharp, handsome, face, Will realized.  


“Were you- were you _crying_?” Will asked before he could think.  


Nico blinked, curling defensively back into the tree.  


“You were crying… is that why you ran out of the hospital?” Will said out loud, cursing his mouth in the next instant. Tact wasn’t his strong suit.  
“It’s none of your business.” Nico said stiffly.  
“None of my business?” Will repeated incredulously. _“None of my business?”_  
Nico angled his head, staring at Will through slitted, hostile, eyes.  


“I’m your doctor, I’m responsible for your health, and, screw that, I’m your friend- I care about you, of course it’s my… business.” Will finished lamely. _I care about you- Will, you idiot._ Embarrassment washed over him.  


Nico looked surprised. He was silent. “Forget about it.” Will said eventually.  
“If you don’t want to talk-”  


“I get sad sometimes,” Nico said suddenly, looking at Will from under his long lashes- long, lush, sooty black. Will was silent, looking at Nico. He couldn’t think of anything else but Nico, and the way he looked right now, a desperate, lonely prince. _I get sad sometimes._ Will wanted to fold Nico in his arms, wanted to shield him from whatever made him sad, but all he could do was listen.  


Nico looked down, at his hands. “I don’t know why, I can’t explain it. Sometimes I’m okay. Sometimes I think I’ll be fine, it feels fine. But it comes back when I think about certain things- Tartarus, mainly. My sister. Per-” Nico broke off, a faint flush staining his cheeks.  


“Tartarus?” Will echoed, carefully. Nico looked up at him.  


“I’m sure you know that Annabeth and- and Percy, they went through Tartarus.”  
Will nodded. They’d all heard about it, of course.  


“Before they went in together… I did.”  
Will reeled back in shock. Nico looked away, but didn’t stop talking.  


“I went looking for the Doors, and… I got sucked in. I was stupid, I was an idiot.” Nico spoke listlessly, his words only warmed by self-hatred.  
“You’re not stupid.” Will said automatically. Nico ignored him.  
“I went through alone, I don’t know how long it took. It took something out of me- I don’t know. After that, I was captured. They put me in a jar. Alone. I couldn’t get out, I was starving. I ate pomegranate seeds to stay alive.”  


Nico had gone through Tartarus… alone. Will couldn’t imagine it. Slowly, he put an arm around Nico’s shoulders. Nico stiffened, and then relaxed all of a sudden into Will’s touch. Absentmindedly, Will stroked a hand through Nico’s hair.  


“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” Will whispered.  
Nico sighed, his head on Will’s shoulder. Will didn’t know if Nico realized it, how close he clustered to Will’s warmth.  


“No one does, besides the people on the Argo II. And Reyna. I asked them not to tell.” A bit of animation, affection, returned to Nico’s voice as he spoke Reyna’s name, and Will fought a surge of jealousy. It was stupid.  
They were silent for a while, and then Will asked, tentatively:  


“And your sister? You had another one, right? Besides Hazel?”  


Nico went stiff, tearing away from Will. His usual mask wavered and returned, the uncaring smirk.  
“I don’t want to talk about that.” Nico stood, brushing the water from his jeans- which was pretty much useless anyway, since they were soaked, and the rain hadn’t stopped.  


Will struggled to his feet.  


“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…” Will couldn’t finish. He wanted to cry, but what right did he have? Compared to Nico’s pain…  


Nico watched him. His face was blank. “No, I don’t imagine you did.’’  


“Nico…” Will whispered.  


“I think I’m done at the infirmary. Three days, right? I’m only one day through and I feel fine. Must be your medical skills.” Nico’s voice was cold.  


“What? No! No, you’re staying, or else I’ll-”  


“Or else you’ll what? Tell everyone what I told you?” Nico asked, viciously.  


“No! No, I would never!” Will exclaimed. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to fix it. He’d pushed too hard, and now everything was crumbling.  


“Then I think we’re done here.” Nico said, pleasantly.  


“Wait-”  


But Nico was gone, vanished into the shadows.

Will sank to the ground, head in his hands. "Shit."

* * *

Nico wasn’t leaving camp, although he wouldn’t be telling Will that. He shadow-traveled to the Hades cabin. It was gloomy, dark, but he preferred it that way, anyway. Although, did it have to be so… dusty? Momentarily, Nico contemplated taking a duster to the whole mess, but dropped the idea. 

Nico reached for the statue of Hades he kept in his pocket at all times, the only remnant of his sister he had left, but his hands grasped air. Shit. Where was it?

Shivering with the cold, Nico tore through the cabin, looking for it. After an hour with no look, Nico sat, defeated. It was in the infirmary, it must have been. He couldn’t go back, though. _Not after Will…_

Running a hand through his hair- it was soaked, damn rain - Nico melted into shadows, as he’d done for most of his time at camp. Every time he melted into shadows, he felt less and less human. Demigod. Whatever. Would there be a time, Nico wondered, where he wouldn’t be able to go back, at all? Would there be a time when whatever made him ‘Nico’ was gone, where he was just shadows? 

Nico shook those thoughts away- he knew what that kind of thinking brought- the old pain, the stupid cycles. As if he hadn’t learned his lesson- his cheeks burned, thinking of it, thinking of what he had told Will. Anger and humiliation warred in his heart in equal measure as he strode for the infirmary. He was cold, so cold, and shivering so hard that that he couldn’t feel the individual shudders anymore, it was just one prolonged throb of cold. He tried to think of warm thoughts. 

Percy flitted to his mind, and Nico grimaced, but he’d had enough of denying himself. He remembered Percy asking him if he was alright, after he’d summoned twenty dead souls to fight against the invasion from the Labyrinth, remembered Percy putting his hand against Nico’s heart to check for his heartbeat, remembered the jump of electricity he’d felt. It had felt impossible that Percy didn’t feel the same way, not when what Nico felt was so strong. He’d thought, foolishly, that Percy felt similarly. Now Percy knew, of course. 

Nico rounded the corner and walked into the infirmary, still blessedly invisible. He could spot his bed, and he dove down, following a hunch. As he’d thought, the figurine had rolled under the bed. Nico plucked it up, tucking it in his coat. He was turning to go when he heard a voice- Will’s voice. Nico froze, and then turned, unable to look away. He was walking next to a girl, quite a pretty one. He’d changed out of his wet scrubs, but his golden curls were still soaking. Nico noted it with a pang. 

“And you found him?” The girl was asking Will.  
Will nodded. “Yeah.” He didn’t elaborate. Nico bit his lip.

“Where is he now?” The girl asked.

Will ran a hand through his hair. “Leia, he’s fine. I talked to him.” Nico couldn’t help the sneer that rose to his lips; after so many years of false hostility, it had become almost a habit. _He’s fine. Is that what you thought?_  
The girl, Leia, sighed in relief. She wore a nurse’s scrubs, Nico noticed.  
“Thank the gods. If… if you hadn’t found him, who knows what he would have done to the camp. Everything would be in pieces, with zombies crawling out of the cracks.” Leia shuddered. 

Nico felt a warm, wet substance slide down his chin. He looked down blankly; he’d bitten his lip so hard it had bled. _Everything would be in pieces…. everything is in pieces,_ Nico thought with a distant sort of horror. So that was why Will had come to look for him; no matter what pretenses he’d told Nico, about “caring”, he’d just been trying to save the camp. From Nico. A good, noble, son of Apollo, a golden boy. He hadn’t wanted to hear the things Nico had told him. Shit. 

He felt the blood slide down, dripping onto his shirt, but he didn’t wipe it away. Fury, his familiar bulwark, slid up around him, a miasma of darkness. He stared at Will, eyes burning into his back. Will didn’t notice, but then again, Nico was invisible.

Will was saying something, sighing, “Leia…” but Nico didn’t hear, the roaring in his ears was too loud, all he saw was Will sliding an arm around Leia’s shoulders.  
_I hate him._ The thought rose up unbidden. Nico didn’t know if it was true, but it felt right. “I hate him.” Nico whispered low, under his breath. And what had Nico thought… that because Will had asked him to stay in the infirmary, that had meant something? 

That because Will had been friendly with him, told him that he did have friends, that Will had… been interested in him? That had just been a ploy, Nico realized now. He’d just wanted to contain Nico, so Nico couldn’t hurt anybody else. He was a good doctor, a good person.  
_And I’m not,_ Nico thought. _I’m not a good person, I hate him. I hate him for tricking me, I hate him for making me trust him_ \- and humiliation warmed him, briefly. He’d told Will some of his deepest secrets. 

Nico sank into the ground, head in his hands. “Shit."

* * *

Nico wasn’t getting away with it, Will decided. He may have been used to getting his way with the dead, but he couldn’t just confess his innermost pain to Will and then just… run away, leaving Will nothing but confusion.

Will just didn’t know where he would have gone. He’d melted into a puddle of shadow, essentially- he could have gone anywhere, absolutely anywhere. After what had happened, Will had gone back to the infirmary, caught Leia up on what happened, and he’d been looking for Nico ever since. Will cast a glance at the sky- it was dusky, almost night. Maybe he could ask one of the dryads to track Nico, with something that belonged to him? Will flushed to think of stealing, but it wouldn’t be stealing, would it, if he returned it? 

Firm with resolve, Will strode to the Hades cabin. He reached for the knob, fully intending to twist it open, when the door flew open, missing Will’s nose by a half centimeter. Nico di Angelo stood there, glaring at him, although that was hardly surprising. His hair was still plastered with rain, although he had changed, into yet another pair of black skinny jeans, and another black coat. Will wished he weren’t so aware of how good Nico looked in black. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Nico said calmly, coldly, “But I believe I was clear, earlier. I don’t want to see you.” 

Will flinched, then shrugged. He felt nervous, in a way that couldn’t be named, and hurt, but he ignored that. “I wanted to see you, though.” Will said honestly. 

“Ah, yes. Checking on your patient? Making sure he doesn’t cause a mass zombie exodus?” Nico’s voice was biting. 

Will blinked. “Erm. No, actually.” Nico’s words didn’t make sense, but he plowed on anyway. “I wanted to talk to you, make sure you’re okay, and-” 

“ _Make sure I’m okay?_ ” Nico snorted, pushing past Will. His shoulder brushed against Will’s; Will felt as if he swallowed thousands of butterflies. 

“And, because I’m your friend. I wanted to check in on you.” Will stated, undeterred, following Nico. 

“ _Friends,_ huh?” Nico snarled. Will swallowed. In the past, Nico has always spoken to him like he was an equal, at best, and an annoyance, at worst, but never with such genuine animosity. 

“Did I… did I do something to you? To make you angry?” Will asked, brow creasing in confusion. Nico said nothing. Will caught up with his stride, finally, and Nico increased his pace. _By the gods, Nico di Angelo’s a fast walker._ They were halfway to the dining hall, but Nico spun, taking a different direction- to the woods. Will’s heartbeat sped up, but he followed. 

They plunged in the woods, and Will’s stomach plunged, as well. The woods in the rain had been terrifying enough, but the woods in the dark- Will couldn’t see Nico, couldn’t see a damn thing. “ _Nico!_ ” He was shouting Nico’s name a lot these days, but he was terrified- he bit his lower lip, hating the fear that jolted through him. He’d always been terrified of the dark, and as he’d grown, his phobia had only increased, seemingly in direct proportion to his age. At six, he’d had a mild fear of the dark. At sixteen, being in the woods alone was more enough to make him want to piss himself. He supposed Nico could see perfectly in the darkness, being a son of Hades. Will clenched his fist, feeling irrationally angry at Nico- but, it had been his own choice to follow Nico, hadn’t it? Logically? Will hated logic. 

Will dropped to the ground, hating himself for being such a coward, but the darkness was overwhelming. There was a tree next to him, and Will clutched at it with all the force of a toddler clutching a raggedy teddy bear. Something occurred to him- Nico, being able to see just fine in the darkness, could probably see what a fool Will was making of himself. The hand that Will had been clenching into a fist clenched harder. 

“Nico?” Will called into the dark. He leaned his head against the tree. 

“Look, I know you’re pissed at me for some reason,” Will continued, “but I…. shit.” He paused, huddling closer to the tree. He was freezing. Why was he freezing? 

Ah, yes. Because he had run out in the rain to find Nico di Angelo. And he was scared- why was he scared? Because he had run out in the dark to find Nico di Angelo. 

Logic really was getting out of hand. Will decided to stop using it. Will clutched the tree harder, shivering, and tried again. “Nico di Angelo! I’m sorry, I know I pushed you too hard on the hill. I’m sorry about that. But I _do_ want to help you, I _am_ your friend. And I need your help…” Will grimaced. 

“I don’t do so well in the dark. Nico…” Will gritted his teeth. He hated how whiny he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. He closed his eyes. He could wait here until morning, maybe. The only drawbacks to that plan were potentially freezing to death/ getting eaten by various flora and fauna. There was a rustle, near him, and Will started, eyes flying open. Not that _that_ was any good; he couldn’t see anyway… Will squinted. “Nico?” 

From the darkness, Will heard a voice. “Scared of the dark, are you?” 

Will wilted in relief, and stood shakily, using the tree for support. Blindly, he flailed his hand- 

“Ow!” It was _definitely_ Nico- grudging, impatient. “You hit my face!” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Will said hastily. Nico sighed. “Give me your hand.” Will flushed, and then hoped Nico couldn’t see it. Surely his night-vision wasn’t _that_ good? Obligingly, Will stretched a hand out. He felt a warm hand enclose it- Nico’s. Nico’s fingers were slim, long, wrapping securely around Will’s. Will wasn’t cold anymore, quite the contrary- he felt uncomfortably warm. 

“So, what did I do?” Will asked. “Was it just… was it because I pushed you too hard, too soon?” They were standing, face to face, holding hands, but it felt right. Nico sighed. “Gods.” Will pushed on. “Nico, if I did something to you, you’re going to need to tell me, so I can apologize. I was serious about being your friend.” Nico groaned. 

Will felt Nico’s other hand enclose his free hand, and grip, tightly. Something was snaking out of Nico- Will gasped. Light was illuminating the chill air before them, painting a scene. Nico’s memories, Will realized. 

In the next instant, the light rushed into Will- and he _was_ Nico, reliving Nico’s memories. 

Will saw himself, at the battle, bickering with Nico. He remembered it, of course, but he hadn’t realized how he’d looked to Nico- golden, handsome. He was telling Nico that there were people who’d _wanted_ to befriend him, if Nico hadn’t pushed them away… and then the scene vanished, to be replaced by another one- him commanding Nico to stay at the infirmary, for three days. Will flushed at the memory- it had been such an obvious attempt for Nico’s attention, but… he felt Nico’s emotions- disbelief, giddiness. As if he couldn’t believe anyone would want to spend time with him, but the idea made him unbearably happy. The scene vanished, and Will- Nico - was in the infirmary, on the bed. Pain, unbelievable pain, was flickering through him, thoughts… Tartarus, Acheron, a girl called Bianca- his sister? - and, a face. Handsome, slightly goofy, sea green eyes, dark hair. Percy. Will felt the weight of emotion that Nico imbued Percy’s face with, the mingled hatred and longing. Will felt a surge of jealousy. But the pain was getting too much for him, for Nico, and he- they - was writing a note, teeth gritting to suppress the explosion of power that was sure to come. Nico was running- and the scene faded. Nico was crying on a hill now, and Will wanted to rock him, kiss his hair, but he _was_ Nico. He saw himself, Will, emerge, soaked, saw the scene that he’d replayed in his own mind thousands of times by now. He felt the pain at the thought of the name _Bianca_ and then the glaring whiteness of the infirmary returned. He was Nico, but not- Will glanced down. Nothing. 

He was invisible, Will realized- and then he heard the sound of his own voice, and Leia’s. 

_Thank the gods. If… if you hadn’t found him, who knows what he would have done to the camp. Everything would be in pieces, with zombies crawling out of the cracks._ Leia was saying, and he felt the burst of pain and hurt and self-hate that that statement produced in Nico. He felt a surge of dislike for Leia- and then he saw himself, sliding an arm around Leia’s shoulders, and he felt the shock of it, the pain and outrage and hate and he felt Nico sinking invisibly to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself- Will wanted to hug him, wanted to apologize a thousand times - and one thought crystallizing- _I hate him._ Will blinked, opened his mouth, fighting for control, wanting to be able to _tell_ Nico, to _explain_ … and he was in his own body again, stiff with shock, the darkness sudden and absolute.

* * *

“ _Nico._ ” Will said, stunned. He couldn’t see him, and, suddenly panicked (had Nico left him?) he flung a hand out wildly. “ _Watch_ it!” Will exhaled in relief, gripping Nico’s shoulder. “Nico. _Listen_ to me. I came after you because you’re my friend, because I care about you. Because I want you to be okay.”

There was a silence, and then Nico spoke. “You can’t mean that.” Will groaned in frustration. “I- Nico. I would love to explain to you how wrong you are, but I’m- I don’t like being in the dark. Could we go to your cabin, or mine, or- anywhere. Anywhere, just not here.” 

Nico hissed between his teeth, and grabbed Will’s hand- electricity. Darkness, but the velvety sort of darkness, sleek and soft and sleepy, star-specked and lullaby-rocked - and they were gone. Nowhere and everywhere, a thousand pieces but together. 

“Happy?” Will whirled- they were in the Hades cabin. Will expelled a relieved breath, then furrowed his brow. “ _Nico_. You can’t shadow-travel anymore, dumbass. _Doctor’s orders._ ” 

“I was too worried for you,” Nico told him, and for a moment Will felt as if he’d died and gone to heaven, but “Too worried that if you spent another moment in the dark, you’d piss yourself” came out of Nico’s mouth next, and Will scowled, insulted. 

Nico flings himself on his bed, eyes glitteringly darkly at Will. The sight of it- Nico spread glimmeringly, promisingly, on the bed, eyes bright - made Will feel nervous; he was a lyre and Nico had reached in and strummed his strings, leaving them vibrating. 

“Well?” Nico sighed. “I- what?” Will’s hands were shaking; he stuffed them in his pockets. “You wanted to talk. So talk.” _This is my chance._

“I- okay. Can I sit?” Nico waved a hand. Will sat. “You’re so… you’re so _mad_ , you always think that people don’t care about you. You think that you don’t matter to people. You matter a _lot_ more than you think, to me, to everyone. You’re… you’re a _hero_ , you’re funny.” Will swallowed, licking his lips, drawing courage around him like a cape. “Of course people care about you. You think it’s so simple, that people are drawn to the blonde, positive, people. People generally find that boring. Yes, maybe the general interest in you declined slightly after a few months after the first war, but you know why? Because that, that _coolness_ , that popularity, was fading. What was left was real friendship- actual, lasting, friendship.” Will closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts, and peeked at Nico. He was pale, fingers clenching against the covers. “That’s not- that’s not…” 

“It _is_.” Will interrupted. “Plenty of people wanted to be friends with you. _I wanted-_ want - _to be friends with you._ ” He paused. 

“Okay?” Will prodded, tentatively. “I- okay.” 

_A Week Later…._

“Come on, _sunshine_.” Nico grumbles, black eyes dancing. Will laughs under his breath, and throws the sandball. It hits Nico squarely, sand shattering against Nico’s shocked face. It is _on_ , the sandball fight lasting the remainder of the day. Nico’s ruthless with the sandballs, aiming with brutal accuracy and vicious, deadly, force, and Will would never admit it but he loves this Nico: engaged, glittering, eyes full of light and lips splayed in a jagged grin. 

It had started with Nico complaining about Apollo. “It’s so damn _sunny_ , sun-boy,” Nico had groaned. “What do you have against the sun?” Will had objected, and Nico had rolled onto his stomach, ticking the points off on his fingers. “No snowball fights, no hot cocoa, no _fun_.” And one thing had led to another had led to a sandball fight. 

This Nico is different, is _his_. Nico’s still himself, the filthy-mouthed cynic, but lighter, brighter. Will sits at the Hades table with him, Nico grudging at first and then counting on him being there. He shows up at the Hades cabin, he wakes Nico in the morning ( _what the actual hell are you doing?_ ), he puts in _effort_ to draw Nico out of that shell he hides in. And it’s _working_. 

It isn’t perfect; Nico still has his off days, the days where he doesn’t- can’t - get out of bed, the days when Will can _feel_ the darkness radiating from him in waves of _don’t look at me, don’t touch me_ , but if he loses one day, he wins another. Today, Will decides, is a win. 

Everyone notices this new Nico, from Leia (who’s making an effort to be nice) to Percy, who pulls Will aside one day. (“What?” Will had asked, feeling irritable. He doesn’t _hate_ Percy, but there was something about the way Nico used to look at Percy that made Will feel jittery, annoyed. “Will,” Percy had said, eyes green and serious, “I wanted to thank you. Nico… I’ve never seen him so happy, not since he was- gods, ten years old. After everything, after Bianca, he just… shut down. He needs a good friend like you, so, thank you.” There it was again, _Bianca_. Will frowned. “I didn’t do it for _thanks._ ” Percy had flushed. “Of course not, but, just, thanks.”) 

_He needs a good friend like you_. The words followed Will back to his cabin, spun jagged in his sleeping mind. 

It’s the new Nico, the one only Will gets to see, that makes Will feel like he’s combusting every time Nico grazes Will’s skin. It’s the little things: the way Nico likes his coffee (black, two sugars), the silvery scar on the nape of his neck, how he uses his hands to articulate a point. _How can black eyes look so bright_? Will wonders constantly. It keeps him up, wondering how black- by definition, the absence of color - can look so _alive_. Black is magnetic, so much so that it draws everything, even the light; so much so that it devours everything, even the light. He brings this up one day with Nico, and they spend a few days arguing about whether black is a color. 

“It’s the _absence_ of color, the lack of color.” Will points out, and Nico makes a frustrated noise, running a hand through his messy black hair (Will’s heart clenches, so painfully he almost can’t breathe). “You could say that zero is the absence of a number, but it’s still a number.” Nico argues. Will laughs, “Touché”. 

They do this a lot, debating their opinions. Anything is fair game: colors, music, food. It is their way of transforming their differences into something that brings them closer, Will thinks. Nico likes The Killers, Florence+The Machine, The Beatles (the only thing they agree upon). Will likes Lauren Aquilina, Sam Smith, Lana Del Rey, and, yes, The Beatles. Will tries to use “Here Comes The Sun” against Nico, but when Nico points out that it’s meant to be taken metaphorically, Will drops it. 

_He needs a good friend like you_. It haunts Will, hunts him. A _friend_ , is that all he is to Nico? It is better than nothing, yes, but if sliding an arm around Leia’s shoulders was a mistake, maybe _this_ is as well. That outburst of emotion from Nico that night in the woods is the last that Will sees; the only longing Will can detect in their friendship is from his side. If he had to guess, he would say that Nico enjoys his company, values him, and nothing more. And he doesn’t- okay, to be fair, he does - know why that hurts so much. Every day seems to only cement the “just friends” aspect of their relationship, every day Will thinks about saying something, and every day he doesn’t. 

For one, there’s Nico’s sexuality to think about. Will _thinks_ Nico likes guys, a theory cobbled together from one too many lingering glances Nico’s shot at Percy Jackson and some tired old stereotypes about skinny, cynical, emotionally cut off boys. 

He can’t ask, though. He knows how Nico would read it: as a wary precaution. So he doesn’t do anything, just enjoys Nico and being friends with him, although there’s something in him that wants _more_.

* * *

_Touches_. Nico doesn’t like them, anymore than he likes summer and tropical weather. Generally, he goes out of his way to avoid them, but _Will_. He’s a casual toucher, the type that thinks nothing of casually sliding an arm around shoulders, brushing a finger against skin, laughing into someone’s neck. A week, then two, and it’s _maddening_ , honestly.

If it was anybody else he would have told them in no uncertain terms to back the hell away, but this was _Will_ , the guy that Nico honestly- against his better judgement - enjoys spending time with, probably his only close friend, and so Nico says nothing, preferring to shy away from Will than to actually tell him, but now it’s noon and he can’t stop thinking about the way Will slid an arm around him in the water that morning after they capsized their canoe, his shoulders tanned and bright, his skin warm and smelling like coconut and salt and summer. 

“Nico!” Percy says, sliding a tray next to Nico (Will’s still in the lunch line). Nico looks up, annoyed. Percy, his hair tousled, eyes green and bright- Nico may not like Percy anymore, but he has _eyes_. “What the hell do you want?” 

Percy looks offended, but maybe it’s just an act. He can never tell with Percy- never could, really. Nico pushes the thought away, focusing on poking half-heartedly at his fruit salad. Summoning courage, Nico stabbed a grape, bringing it to his mouth. 

“Do I have to want something to talk to a buddy?” Nico looks up, studying Percy critically. “Yes. Now, out with it.” 

Percy whistles. “Damn, okay. That’s how you treat a brother now, huh?” Nico discards several snarky comments; he doesn’t have enough energy to actually stir up a fight. “What. Do you want?” Nico, over the years, has perfected the art of deadpan delivery: flat tone, half-hearted eyebrow raise, disinterested eyes. 

Percy smirks, and then catches sight of Will, who appears to be debating the merits of orange juice with a Demeter camper. “New friend, huh?” 

Nico sighs, placing the grape in his mouth and chewing, slowly. It tastes sweet, tart. Like pomegranate seeds- Nico spits the grape out, pushing the fruit salad away. “Why do you care?”

Percy looks hurt- sincerely hurt, minus the frippery and mind-games. “I care about you, Nico. I’m glad you made a friend.” 

Nico groans. “Last I checked, you were not my goddamned shrink. Get on with it.” Percy doesn’t listen to him, leaning forward. “You’re happier these days. I’m glad you’re settling in.” His eyes are green as the woods, as green as the hill that Nico’s cried on more times than he would care to number, his face closer than Nico would have liked. There’s a freckle on his left eyelid, Nico notices. _Goddamned Percy._ Two can play this game, so Nico leans in too, eyes wide and innocent: “Tell me what you want or get the hell away.” 

Percy laughs, and Nico immediately regrets it, because Percy’s breath smells like sea salt and fruit, more enticing than Nico wishes. _Shit. _He doesn’t like- okay, love - Percy in the same way he has for years, in the same mixture of hatred and desire, but he still- Percy is still attractive. Almost ridiculously so, sometimes. “Fine,” Percy is saying, leaning in even closer, so his hair almost brushes Nico, “I want-”__

____

____

“Am I interrupting something?” Will’s voice, sharp as knives. Nico blinks, pulling away from Percy. It feels like drawing himself away from a spider’s web, sticky, spell-binding, strings still lingering. He assesses the scene- him and Percy, leaning close enough to kiss, Will standing there with a full tray, eyes piercing and lips pressed together disapprovingly, distaste written on his face. Distaste, it’s close enough to disgust, as if Will can’t bear to see two members of the same sex that close. Something sharp and pointed rises in Nico’s chest; he feels a surge of vindictiveness. 

“Maybe,” Nico says slowly, narrowing his eyes. “Why?” Will stiffens, setting his tray down carefully. “I-” 

“Nico, I’ll catch you later. Will.” Percy nods, and leaves, eyes glinting with something that makes Nico even more furious. “Goddamnit,” Nico hisses, and is rewarded in the hurt cast to Will’s blue, blue, eyes. Blue as the sky, blue as Bianca’s nail polish the night before everything changed. Blue as Coney Island cotton candy, happiness in sugar-sticky fingers. Nico is suddenly tired, the will to fight gone as quickly as it came. He slumps, burying his head in his arms. He wants to sleep. 

“What was _that_ about?” Will questions, skepticism in his voice, his tone, sliding next to Nico. “Nothing,” Nico says, because it’s true. Nothing. Nothing on Percy’s side, at least. Despair floods him. “Are you sure?” Will goes on, goddamned _pushing_ it, and Nico breaks. 

“If I say it’s nothing, it’s nothing, and even if it was something, it’s none of your fucking business.” Nico snaps, picking up his fruit salad and standing. He regrets it immediately; the small movement makes him feel light-headed, dizzy with fatigue, but he isn’t about to clue Will in on his sudden weakness. 

Will looks up at him with those blue, blue, eyes, lips parted in shock or hurt or something else, and Nico can’t _think_ , but he does know this: he has to get away from Will, from those eyes- eyes that look suspiciously close to tears. _I’m sorry,_ Nico wants to tell him, _I’m sorry. I’m a crap friend, I don’t know how to talk, how to play nice. I’m sorry. I end up hurting people, hurting everyone around me because I never learned not to, and sometimes people start off mean and angry as hell, and maybe I did, too_ , but the words won’t come, and it’s all he can do to toss his fruit salad in the compost and set the bowl down before he is off, to the hill and the soothing darkness of the woods. 

Except Will knows about the hill, Nico realizes. It’s probably the first place he’ll look. But the woods are dark and comforting, the woods don’t require him to think about feelings and dance around the truth, so he forges on, not without effort- his stomach feels damn near empty, his legs weak and his head light. 

When did he last eat? Nico racks his brain, comes up with nothing. Will usually makes him eat, citing medical facts and all the various side effects of nutritional deficiencies, but Will’s been on infirmary duty these past few days- it’s been three days since he’s eaten, Nico realizes. Three days. He’s pretty sure he’s been drinking water, though. 

_Can’t the body survive for weeks without food?_ Nico thinks, deciding to ignore it. He doesn’t technically _need_ the food, does he? He heads into the woods, despite the weakness in his body. He’s a son of Hades, after all. He’s not some sniveling child of Demeter or Hermes, he’s one of the most powerful demigods at camp. 

* * *

Nico groans in frustration. Regularly, he’d be through and past the woods by now, but his quivering damn legs, his aching damn chest, his empty damn stomach. _Damn, damn, damn._ He continues walking, but a sharp, stabbing, pain in his stomach forces him to his knees. He’s almost there. He’s so close it hurts, so far it’s funny.  


He really should have eaten. Something. But he hates eating heavy foods- steak, fried chicken, salmon. (He would be- and technically is - a vegetarian, but he doesn’t call himself that. As a child of Hades, he has a reputation to keep, after all. No meat has crossed his lips in years, but that’s more because he hates the taste.) Aside form heavy foods, salads and beans would be an option- rabbit food, Percy called it - except they reminded him of pomegranate seeds, and he couldn’t keep them down without retching. 

He doesn’t have bulimia or something. It’s just that eating isn’t easy. Food is problematic. The only food he’s been able to consume without any qualms or lingering nausea is Sally Jackson’s food- blue cake, heavenly cookies, excellently prepared dinners, but judging from his recent interactions with Percy, he’s not likely to be invited for dinner anytime soon. 

Nico groans, banging his head against the tree in frustration. He can’t continue, but he has to. Maybe he can get a skeleton to carry him- Nico, summoning the last of his strength, sends a summons down into the earth, and then black comes down over his eyes, the final curtain in a too-lengthy play. _Finally_ , Nico thinks, sinking down into the dark.

* * *

Will watches Nico go, feeling a rush of anger and unwelcome tears. He brushes them away viciously. Maybe he did something, but he can’t help it. Standing in the lunch line, debating orange juice with Miranda Gardner (she was pro, he was anti, the amount of _sugar_ in orange juice was honestly appalling) he glanced back idly, and seen it- Percy leaning in close, so close, to Nico, eyes glinting blue-green.

“ _Shit!_ ” Will said aloud, and Miranda broke off, looking annoyed. Nico had an expression on his face, a peculiar unreadable cast to his eyes, and he’d leaned in slowly, eyes dark, mouth parting. 

Hastily, Will had set off towards the tables, fingers clenching the lunch tray. 

“I want,” Percy was saying, eyes glimmering almost seductively, and Will felt dizzy. He interrupted them, hardly aware of what he was saying, just that he needed them to _stop_. Nico looked at him, eyes lingering on Will, taking in the expression on Will’s face, smirking knowingly, and Will felt like he was being hit in the gut. 

He knew, didn’t he? Knew and didn’t care. Percy had left, and Nico had cursed, slumping to the table. _Goddammit_ , he’d said, and Will sat next to him struggling to parse the meaning behind Nico’s actions. Was he angry because Percy left? Was he- did he - but Percy was in love with Annabeth, wasn’t he? 

Will asked him what was going on, needing to _know_ , and Nico snapped, heading for the woods. _It’s none of your fucking business_. 

Will blinks, separating himself from the memory. He needs to- he needs to go. He feels too conspicuous, sitting alone at the Hades table- although they don’t really sit according to their godly parentage at lunch - and he gets to his feet, leaving his tray. He really should clean it, put the tray away, but he can’t do a thing, he’s too conflicted. 

He thinks about Nico as he walks to his cabin, about how Nico had been tense at first, porcupine-rigid, and had relaxed as things went on, finally comfortable in their friendship. 

He thinks about sliding his arm around Nico’s shoulder, the way his fingers had felt on Nico’s smooth skin, as if they were meant for it. Nico’s lean, slim- muscled, yes, but elegantly so, with the spare litheness of a birch tree. Will is taller, not as muscled (he’s a healer, not a warrior), but they fit together perfectly, Nico’s head reaching Will’s chin, Will’s arm fitting perfectly around Nico’s shoulders, but underneath it all there is _it’s none of your fucking business_ and maybe Nico doesn’t care. Maybe Nico doesn’t feel a thing. Maybe it’s one-sided. 

He should be searching the woods for Nico, but he can’t. Will can’t face him, knowing what he knows. Instead, Will heads to the archery range, firing and firing until his arms feel like lead, until the bulls-eyes are bristling with arrows. _If only hearts were so easy_ , Will thinks, and spends the rest of the day in the infirmary, organizing and re-organizing, methodically taking stock of everything, healing minor burns and injuries. It’s what he’s best at, after all. 

* * *

“Will, take a break.” Will turns, glancing at Kayla, his half-sister. “Have you been binging on Hamilton again?” She sighs in frustration.

“You’ve had your head in the infirmary for three days straight. This morning was the first break you’ve taken in forever- don’t give me any glib Frozen references - and now you’re back. This isn’t wartime. All we have right now is people with rope burns and heatstroke, and even the people with injuries from the war are almost fully healed. So, like, get out of here.” 

He sighs, leaning back. “Rope burns hurt, Kay. Maybe I am needed.” She glares at him. “Go hang out with your BFF or something!” Kayla then proceeds to try to shove him out of the door, but while he may not be some buff warrior, he’s still stronger than a thirteen year old girl with no fighting experience. “My BFF?” Will questions, mind half on resisting Kayla’s strength and half on her words. 

Kayla gives up, panting. “Yeah, your new best friend. Nico.” Will stiffens, looking at his feet, but Kayla sees it. “Did something happen between you two?” Kayla questions. 

Will sighs. He can only evade her questioning for so long, especially because now she knows what’s upsetting him. It’s easier to just give in. “No, for that there would have to be something between us in the first place. I guess I thought we could be friends, and I thought I was making progress, but now I’m not sure. I’m not sure if he ever really cared.” 

Kayla’s silent, thinking. Will takes this is an opportunity to go back to shelving, storing neatly rolled bandages in the infirmary closet, stacking little tubes of Neosporin. She’s silent for so long that Will loses himself in his actions, his mind on organizing the scalpels, not on Nico and whatever he feels. 

“I don’t think so, Will.” Kayla says, suddenly. Will blinks, glancing up. “What?” She looks exasperated. “I don’t think he never cared.” 

“Um. No offense, but how would you know? You don’t… you don’t know him.” 

“No, but I know you. I know how you are. And I’ve watched you two, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m pretty sure he cares, a lot.” 

Will sighs, smiling at her. Kayla. She loves him, and she tries, really hard. Even if she isn’t right. “Love you, Kay.” 

* * *

Nico is shaken awake, a hand gripping his shoulder. He groans, flailing slightly. He feels weak, unsteady, empty. He’s on the ground, in the dark, he realizes a moment later. His eyes, made for the shadows, adjust immediately. There’s a girl in front of him, a pretty one (although he isn’t the best judge of that), shaking him. Nico blinks his eyes, stiffening, hand going to his hip for his Stygian iron sword, but it’s not there. He left it at his cabin, he realizes.

“Who are you?” He says- _means_ to say, but it comes out in a groggy mess. She’s pale, with tangled dark hair and leaf-colored eyes. His first thought is _Mother_ , but she looks nothing like Maria di Angelo. She’s a dryad, he realizes. 

She sighs, sitting on her ass, crossing her legs. “You don’t recognize me?” Nico blinks. He’s pretty sure he’s never seen her in his life. “Sorry, no. Should I?” Nico hates the thought of forgetting, losing himself- he almost did in the Lotus Casino. He never will again, if he has his way. 

“Also, how are you- how are you so close to me? Dryads, nature, they don’t do so well around me,” Nico says, gesturing to himself. It’s true- something about him, something about the Underworld aura he radiates, scares them off. She smiles slightly. “I’ve been close to you for months.” Nico stares at her. She smells like mint, and he remembers a flicker of a myth: Minthe, the nature spirit who caught the eye of Hades. She kissed him in exchange for a trip to the surface, but angered Persephone, who crushed her. 

“You’re- are you the dryad of the tree on the hill?” Nico thinks out loud, formulating half-thoughts, but they fall apart as soon as he tries to voice them. Why is she here? It doesn’t make _sense_. She nods. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yes, essentially. I am the spirit of that tree on the hill, yes. My name is Minthe. I’ve been watching over you.” 

“I thought Minthe died, and became a mint plant.” Minthe smiles, green eyes glinting. “Hades was remorseful, and reincarnated me in exchange for the promise to take care of his only son.” 

“So he’s been spying on me?” Nico’s chest feels tight. Minthe shakes her head, looking warily around her. “I don’t tell him everything. I don’t spy, either. I’m- I’m here to be a comfort to you, not a hindrance.” 

He’d always felt a particular connection to that tree on the hill, had cried in it for longer than he could remember. “Your father’s worried about you, Nico,” Minthe continues, scooting closer to him. 

“And honestly, I am too. When that child of Apollo came- I thought- but maybe that was foolish- nevertheless, you aren’t _eating_. I want soothe your tears, yes, but I shouldn’t have to as often as I do. You’re sad, it’s eating you up. It’s more than the ordinary pain most demigods experience- I’ve never felt its like. A darkness so absolute, it’s stealing your light for itself.” 

Nico looks down, eyes prickling with something he couldn’t name. “I’m a son of Hades. I’m not supposed to _have_ any light.” 

Minthe frowns. “All heroes have light. You more than most.” Nico laughs, bitterly. “I’m not a hero.” Minthe smiles. “You risked your life to transport the Athena Parthenos. You survived Tartarus. You spent weeks with nothing but the seeds of Persephone’s fruit to sustain you. You are a hero, without you Percy Jackson, Jason Grace- they would not have succeeded.” 

“Without me, my sister would still be alive!” Nico shouts, voice breaking. He’s shaking, his voice sobbing in his throat. He’s never told anyone this, never, not even Will. _Will_. Nico wonders what he was doing now- if he even spared a thought for Nico. Probably not. 

“I- I hurt everyone! I’m no good for anyone- my sister is dead, my mother is dead, and if Will Solace- that child of Apollo you mentioned - keeps hanging around me, he’ll get hurt, too. He- he already is. I’m no hero.” 

Minthe’s silent. At last, she speaks. “I do not know much about the wars of gods and men. I do not know my role. I have been absent for the world for most of its histories. But I do know you are- you are _good_ , Nico di Angelo.” 

Nico looks down, unwilling to look in her eyes. She sighs, getting to her feet. “When you are sad, when you are lonely, come visit me,” Minthe says, and Nico knows she means the tree, the hill. He nods. “I must leave you know. Dryads are not meant for the night, the darkness.” Minthe bends- she is willowy, tall - and kisses him on the forehead, arms enclosing him, squeezing him briefly. She murmurs something into his hair, and is gone, leaving only the faint perfume of mint behind. 

Nico feels his eyes well up, fingers ghosting to the spot she kissed. The way she speaks- he almost believes her. Almost. But not quite. 

* * *

He’s weak, he can barely move, but somehow, he makes it back to his cabin, staggering most of the way and crawling the last leg of it. It’s humiliating, and slow (by the time he collapses onto his bed, it’s light out). No one sees him.

Nico fumbles for his emergency granola bar- he keeps one in his nightstand - and chews, slowly. It’s not enough to replace the three days- four, now - he hasn’t eaten, but it’s better than nothing. As he eats, he thinks. 

1\. Will Solace is better off without him. 

2\. He is bad. He is dark. Minthe had inadvertently said it herself: _I’ve never felt its like. A darkness so absolute_. She’d never felt its like because he was a child of Hades, more suited to the Underworld than the surface. 

3\. Nico is selfish. He's been… enjoying Will, enjoying the feel of having a _friend_ \- Percy may be a friend, but he never hangs around Nico long - that he’s forgotten how much he can hurt people. Yesterday, the hurt he’d inflicted on Will- it was a reminder. He’s mean. He’s bad. He’s messed up. 

Nico thinks back to the reason the Big Three decided to stop having children. World War II- and he bolts upright (he regrets it a moment later as dizziness rushes into his head) because of Hitler. Hitler, a human personification of an evil so dark and disgusting that even the _gods_ , who were no strangers to bloodshed, decided to stop having children. Who was Hitler's godly parent? Nico knows it- Hades. 

_I could be just as bad as Hitler_ , Nico realizes, the granola bar revolting in his stomach. He thinks back to Leia’s words: _Everything would be in pieces, with zombies crawling out of the cracks_ , and feels sick. He can picture it. He is living proof of why the Big Three shouldn’t have children, he is wrong. He needs to- he needs to die. Zeus had it right. 

Nico is shaking. He can’t do it. He is selfish, he always will be. He can’t kill himself- but he has to. He thinks of Bianca. Maria. _How many more will die for me_ , he thinks, _how many more_? And he feels certain. 

Nico holds his hand out, concentrating- at this close proximity, he can summon his sword at will. The Stygian iron knocks into his hand, almost bowling him clean over- he’s so weak he can barely move. Nico knows what he has to do. 

He breathes in, deep. He should do it now, but something occurs to him. One last day can’t hurt. One last day on the hill, enjoying the breezes. Nobody else will die because he has spent one last day on this earth. He will do it tonight. He has to. 

* * *

The thing is, he can’t get to the hill if he doesn’t eat something. The granola bar wasn’t enough. Nico resolves to eat as unhealthily as possible, as a finally _fuck-you_. Also, unhealthy food is damn _good_.

He piles his tray waffles and whipped cream. He eats a waffle, then two, sitting alone at the Hades table. He sees Will, laughing with a member of his cabin- Layla, he thinks her name is. Maybe Kayla. 

Nico feels a spurt of gladness, and then a wave of grief so absolute he can’t swallow. Nico closes his eyes, concentrating on the little things- the feel of the bench, the taste of waffle, the smell of strawberries in the air. Slowly, his throat unclenches, and he’s able to swallow, but he isn’t hungry anymore. 

He slumps in his seat, head in his arms. He should really get up, should really get to the hill- he can’t spend his last day around too many people, he doesn’t know what he’d do to them - but he can’t summon the energy to move. The waffles seem to have had the opposite effect as intended. They’re weighing him down. 

“Hey. Are you okay?” It’s Will, Nico knows, but Nico can’t move. It isn’t just the strange darkness, the grief that takes in spurts and waves- he actually can’t move. He can’t move. Panic spears him- and suddenly he can’t breathe, either. 

He can’t _move, he can’t move_ , and then he feels Will, shaking him, a slim golden hand on his shoulder. “Nico. _Nico!_ ” Nico wants to rise, wants to tell him not to care so much because Nico won’t be here tomorrow, but he can’t move, breathe, live. 

* * *

Nico slumps in early for breakfast, Will notices. He looks exhausted, his skin almost _gray_ , his eyes bloodshot. The clothes he’s wearing are wrinkled, dusted with earth. He’d probably spent the night at the hill. Will feels a knife of hurt, and looks down, concentrating on Kayla and the story she’s telling him. Something about Taylor Swift.

Kayla shakes his arm. “Hey. You might want to check on your buddy.” Will looks up. Nico looks listless, the hand that’s holding the fork wavering lifelessly. As Will watches, Nico slumps to the table, burying his head in his arms. He looks desolate, empty. 

Will is moving before he can think, at Nico’s side. Nico smells like mint and earth. “Hey. Are you okay?” Will asks, gently. Nico doesn’t move, but Will hears his breath ratchet, hears him inhale sharply. He knows Will is there- why doesn’t he move. 

Confused, Will puts a hand on Nico’s shoulder. Ordinarily, Nico would tense at the touch- but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move a muscle, his shoulder slack as ever. Will shakes him, panic growing. “Nico. _Nico!_ ” 

He doesn’t move. Desperate, Will forcibly separates his head from his arms, pulling him upright. Nico’s face is colorless, bloodless, slack. He looks dead, but Will hears his breath, hears the tortured inhale and exhale. He’s alive. 

Nico stirs slightly, and Will feels a crippling relief. “Minthe,” Nico is murmuring, “Minthe. I have to-” 

“Nico! You’re not okay, we need to get you to the infirmary.” Will says urgently, but Nico either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care. Will groans in frustration and slides an arm around Nico’s slim shoulders. At that Nico twitches, noticing him, eyes widening. Will slides his other arm under Nico’s leg and lifts him bodily up- Will may not be strong, but Nico weighs about ninety pounds. 

People are staring, but Will doesn’t care. He hefts Nico in his arms and makes for the infirmary. Nico’s listing into Will’s side, head lolling on Will’s shoulder, and Will inhaled involuntarily. Nico smells like mint and earth, but under that, he smells like _Nico_ , like velvet and the night. His breath smells like jasmine. 

Will bursts into the infirmary, and people start staring. He sees Leia, eyes wide, face shocked. She’s hurrying to him. 

“Leia! Nico’s- I don’t know what’s up with him. He stopped moving- almost in a comatose state at breakfast. We’re going to need a blood sugar test, and we need to put him on an IV, stat.” Will is hurrying, and someone is rolling a stretcher to him, and he lays Nico on it, gently. 

Leia takes over from there, laying him down on a bed and hooking him up to an IV with passionless efficiency. “I need a blood sugar test,” Leia says, and someone provides one. Will doesn’t know who, everyone’s faces are just blurs, blips. 

They wait for the two minutes it takes for the results, and Leia is looking shocked, her face white as paper, showing Will the screen: 50. 50 mg/dL. A regular person’s blood sugar levels are around 100. 

“What the ?” Will is whispering. How did Nico’s blood sugar levels get that low? Not even not eating for a few days would do that. A few _weeks_ , maybe, but Will knows Nico ate this week, he was there. But he doesn’t have time to wonder, he needs to save Nico’s life. 

* * *

Nico slips in out of dreams, until he doesn’t know what is real and what is his fevered imagination.

* * *

Will is walking towards him, eyes soft. Behind him is nothing but night, a night so dark that even Nico can’t see through it. He is golden, he is shining, he looks like a god, and Nico is nothing. Less than nothing. Scum.

Nico bends, sinking to his knees. He feels the gentle pressure of Will’s foot on his neck, he hears Will inhale. 

The snap echoes in his mind, tumbling through his ears even as the scene winks out of existence. 

* * *

Nico dreams of sands and silk. Will is kissing him, mouth soft, eyes blue and gentle.

Under Will’s touch, Nico is whole again, his body strong and full of life. Passion leaps through him. 

They sink into billowing clouds of silk, play-fighting like puppies, and then suddenly they are kissing again, frantically. 

Nothing else matters. Only Will. 

He dreams that he falls asleep curled into Will, Will’s shoulders curved over his, protecting him. 

He has always hated being small, but not now- he feels safe, cocooned in Will. Will’s arms snakes around his waist, pulling him in. 

* * *

He is bound and gagged, a prisoner before a mob, before a king that is fair and just.

Will lounges on a throne made of thorns, each blossoming with a rose. The air is thick with their heady perfume. 

The mob is screaming. They want to kill him. Nico wants to let them. 

The trial is over fairly quickly, with the mob shouting his offenses, him saying nothing- how could he say anything? He is gagged. Such is the way of this king, cruel but fair. Justice sheathed in barbed wire. - and the king ruling death. Death. 

_No_ , he wants to say. _I am a son of Death, you cannot kill me._

They pick up stones- from smooth, round, pebbles to heavy, cragged, rocks. It doesn’t matter. They hit him with a satisfying thwack. Nothing, and then pain. 

It takes forever. 

It takes no time at all. 

He is a mess of pulpy skin stretched over bones. Blood coats him like water. He cannot die. 

“Mercy,” he manages to croak. “Mercy.” 

He does not deserve it, but the king gives it to him anyway, eyes blue and steely. He stands, nocks an arrow, the bowstring yawning. 

It spears him in the heart, and Nico closes his eyes. Will’s face is the last thing he sees. 

* * *

He is in a hospital, staring at whiteness and faded greens. “No,” he tries to say, but it comes out distorted.

Will whirls, eyes on him, and kneels next to him. “Don’t kneel,” Nico tries to tell him, but Will covers his mouth with a hand. “Nico,” Will whispers. “I need you to try.” 

_Try what_? Nico tries to ask, but darkness slams into him again, and when he opens his eyes, Will is gone. 

* * *

They are warriors, both of them, on opposite sides. They walk in a grove filled with apple blossoms.

Their lips, when they meet, are soft and yielding, but inside they are made of stronger stuff. They will not yield. 

Nico breaks away from Will, gasping, thumbs stroking a steady rhythm on Will’s temples. It would not do for anyone to see them. 

“On the battlefield tomorrow,” Will murmurs, pressing his forehead into Nico’s, “You will kill me, and no other.” 

Nico nods. He will do the same for Will. He can picture it already: Will’s arrows spearing him with light and pain, his black sword lopping Will’s head off. It is all they can do. 

_Love is death_ , the apple blossoms whisper as Will brings his mouth to Nico’s. _And I will have both_ , Nico thinks as he meets Will’s tongue with his own. 

* * *

* * *

Nico stirs slightly, eyelashes fluttering, and Will leans forward, heart in his throat. “Nico?” He asks, softly. “Nico?”

Nico sighs softly, his lips parting, and nuzzles himself further into his pillow. In any other circumstances, Will would laugh, but this is different. Nico’s been out for a day. He knows Nico’s body is in a recovery state, but he can’t help the irrational fear that Nico has entered into a comatose state, and won’t wake up. 

Nico is muttering something, and although Will knows that it’s not exactly a morally reliable thing to do, he leans in to listen, ear at Nico’s lips. 

“Will,” Nico breathes into his ear, and Will leaps back, face flushing. _Shit_ , he thinks, but Nico’s eyes are still closed, his breathing even. 

He’s still asleep. 

Will leans in again, albeit cautiously. “Mercy,” Nico is murmuring, pain in his voice. “Mercy, please.” Will leans back, eyes locked on Nico’s face. It is grimacing, contorted. “Will.” Nico mutters, tossing back and forth, digging deeper into the bed. 

And then he goes still. Will waits, for what feels like hour on end, but Nico doesn’t move again. 

* * *

A soft noise wakes Will up, he’s at Nico’s side, kneeling beside the bed. Nico’s eyes are open, the glittering darkness wide and never-ending. Nico’s eyes- they’re one of Wills favorite parts of him. They’re the exact shade of the night sky, dark and specked with flecks of brightness.

Nico is groaning something, trying to say something, but Will covers his mouth, desperately telling him he needs to try, try to fight. A snippet of a poem snakes into his mind: _Do not go gentle into that good night/Rage, rage, against the dying of the light._

He wants- he doesn’t know what he wants, but he knows this: Will needs Nico to stay alive. But Nico’s eyes are fluttering closed again, he’s murmuring something under his breath, and all Will can do is watch. 

* * *

Nico is murmuring something unintelligible, brow knotting. He’s biting his lower lip, tugging it into his own. Will wants to trace it, wants to feel the softness of Nico’s lips, but he never will, he knows. 

“Will!” Nico says, gasping, and his eyes fly open. Will leaps to his feet, peering into Nico’s face. “Yes?” He says automatically. Nico’s eyes are wide, frozen. 

Nico blinks, slowly, his long lashes dark and lush. He’s gorgeous, even now, his hair dark and luscious, curling around his high cheekbones, the curvature and bones of his face sharp and defined, his nose strong and his lips perfectly shaped. 

“Where am I?” Nico asks, voice hoarse. Will smiles in relief. “You’re in the infirmary.” Nico shakes his head. “But I’m not sick, I’m fine.” 

Will groans. _This._ Honestly. “Nico, you collapsed at breakfast. You weren’t moving. We ran a few tests on you, and you had- you had one of the lowest blood sugar levels I’ve ever seen.” 

Nico looks shifty, his eyes darting everywhere but Will. “Nico, the levels of sugar in your blood- they were impossibly low. You’d have to not eat for _months_ in order to get that sort of blood sugar.” 

Nico says nothing. Frustration mounting, Will leans in closer, forcing Nico to look at him. “If you know something, now is the time to tell me, Nico. Because I am your-” Will breaks off, and starts again. “I am your doctor. I need to make sure you’re okay, and I _don’t know_ what’s going on.” 

“You have the medical experience, not me,” Nico says blandly. “I’m sure your guess is as good as mine.” 

Will throws his hands up. “You’re not a diabetic. As far as I know, you don’t have bulimia or anorexia. I’ve been spending hours researching every obscure, incredibly rare, disorder, and your symptoms don’t align with _any_ of them. _Nico_. Please.” 

Nico’s biting his lip again, looking conflicted, and then screams pierce the air. Nico stiffens. “What’s that?” Will sighed. “That’s a Hecate kid. She’s been hospitalized since the war for war injuries, and she’s…. she was almost ready to be discharged, but for some reason, she’s had a relapse.” Nico is rigid, eyes burning into Will’s. 

“When did this start?” Nico says urgently. “A few hours after we brought you in and stabilized you, why?” 

* * *

_A few hours after we brought you in_. It’s his fault, it’s Nico. He was selfish enough to want an extra day, unlucky enough to collapse. His very presence in the infirmary is _killing_ someone- a girl.

Nico closes his eyes, sending his powers out. He senses a thick wave of potential death. _I’m sorry_ , he says to the unknown girl, _I will make sure you make it to Elysium. I swear it._

“Nico?” Will is saying. “What are you doing?” But Nico is concentrating, sending his powers deeper. _Hades. I haven’t been the best son._ Nico says to his father, his burden. _I know I haven’t been. But this girl is innocent, and deserves Elysium. Please._

There is no response, but Nico knows that Hades can hear him. With effort, he opens his eyes, pulling himself to the surface. 

Will looks on the verge of tears, his skin papery, his eyes rimmed with pink, as if he’s been crying. “I need you to cooperate, Nico. Why are you so sick?” 

Nico knows, but he won’t tell Will. Well, he doesn’t know, but he has a theory. 

Nico is a son of Hades. His powers are life and death, he controls it. And if he happened to decide he didn’t want to live anymore, he might unintentionally turn off the life within himself, drain his life force drastically. 

But Nico doesn’t want to die that way, slow and painful and humiliating. He wants to do it quickly, a quick forceful stab. He reaches into himself, feeling for the life force inside. 

It is weak, tired. Nico furrows his brow, concentrating, clenching figurative fingers around the strings of his fate, his lifeline. He breathes the life back into himself, reversing what he’d done earlier. (It’s not something he would ever be able to do to anyone else, he knows. He’s not a healer, he isn’t Will. All he can do is reverse an action he performed on himself.) 

Nico opens his eyes again, looking at Will. He’s so sincere, he cares. Grief ripples through Nico. _This is the last time I’m seeing him,_ Nico says to himself, bracing himself. 

“If I told you I knew what it was, and that it won’t happen again, would you let me leave?” Nico says after deliberation. He drinks Will in, carving the face into his memory, remembers the sandball fights and arguing; golden, bright, laughter-laden, memories. 

Will looks livid. “You _know_ what this is? Goddamnit, Nico.” 

Nico leans in. He needs to be fair, needs to be smart, but he can’t help himself. He wants to inhale Will’s summery smell- sunlight, honey, baking bread. “What?” 

“When will you start taking care of yourself?” Will asks, quietly. Nico looks down. He can’t meet Will’s eyes. 

“Thank you, Will.” Nico starts, speaking slowly. Softly. “Thanks, really. But I’m fine now. It won’t happen again. It was an accident- I did something I didn’t mean to do. But I know now, and I’ll be fine.” His voice is more gentle than it’s ever been, and Will is looking surprised. 

“Do you hear me? I’ll be fine. I am fine. So. I’m just gonna…” Nico shakes the sheets off, dislodging the IV hooked to his arm. He slides out of bed, slipping his feet into his shoes. Will’s hand snakes out, gripping Nico’s wrist. Nico turns. 

“Just promise me. Promise you’ll be fine.” Will says in a low voice, eyes turned down. “Promise me you’ll be okay.” 

He can’t- it would be a lie. But he has to leave, for the sake of the girl in pain, for the sake of every patient here, so he does what he has to, says _I promise_ , and Will releases him, bowing his head down; a penitent god. 

* * *

He’s so selfish. If he was a good person, he would stab himself as soon as he got back. If, if, if.

But he is bad, he is selfish, so he convinces himself that he just has to avoid human contact, and everyone will be fine. Nico makes for the hill, running through the bristles of the woods. 

The air smells like mint, and he knows Minthe is waiting for him. Dawn is breaking, rose and peach tendrils of light staining the sky like watercolor. 

“Nico,” Minthe says, holding her arms out. She is the only person- dryad - that he can be close to without fear of harm, and so Nico walks into her arms, holds her as tightly as she holds him. 

“How are you?” Minthe asks, eyes dark with worry. He leans against the tree- her tree - and thinks. Clearly, she doesn’t know what he plans to do; he needs to keep it that way. 

“I’m doing better,” Nico says. It’s not a lie- his life force is much stronger than it was yesterday. “I’m just tired.” She nods, and sits next to him, holding him as he drifts off into sleep. 

He has no dreams, of Will or anyone else. He doesn’t know if it’s a relief or a disappointment. 

* * *

Nico wakes to the sound of snapping twigs. He twists (Minthe has dissolved into her tree, most likely in fear of whoever’s approaching) and sees Percy, whooping.

Irritation stings him, and he stands to yell something ( _fuck off_ ) but a gigantic wave of river water slams into him, drenching him head to toe with icy cold liquid. 

“What.” Nico growls. “The. _Actual._ Fuck. Did you just do.” 

Percy is backing away, hands held up, laughing. _Laughing_. “You are going to pay for this, Jackson,” Nico says calmly. Yes, he’s trying to avoid human contact, but Percy’s just dumped fifty gallons of icy sludge on him. He deserves whatever gets him. 

Percy reads his murderous intentions in Nico’s eyes, and takes off running into the woods. Nico sprints after him, dodging trees and pinecones, running until they’re clear out of the woods, running into the dining pavilion- Percy is _fast_ \- and Nico catches up to him, tackling him to the ground. Percy is guffawing, his stupid green eyes bright, and Nico is too, despite himself. 

He holds a hand out, and a bone whips from the ground into his hand. Percy stops laughing. Nico smiles. 

Percy begins struggling, and Nico straddles his hips, pressing him into the ground. (He ignores the sensation of Percy’s hipbones pressing into his thighs, of Percy’s muscles against Nico’s ass). Nico raises the bone. 

Percy begins yelping, crying for mercy, shaking with laughter as Nico hits him with the bone, aiming for his stupid broad shoulders. 

“You. Will. Not. Dump. A. Fucking. River. On. Me. Again.” Nico says in between blows, but Percy is laughing too hard to comply. 

“Asshole,” Nico adds in disgust. He realizes too late that 1) they’re in the dining pavilion, a highly public location, and 2) everyone is watching them, wide-eyed, including Will Solace, but he doesn’t care. 

Or, he does care, but not enough to stop. 

“What did Percy _do_?” A female voice cuts in, and Nico looks up to see a girl with wide gray eyes and a fall of golden hair. 

“Oh, hey, Annabeth.” Nico smiles at her. “Your asshole boyfriend decided to dump a river on my head for no goddamn reason.” 

Annabeth is, predictably, on his side, but Nico relents anyway, getting to his feet. Nico glances at the sun- it’s afternoon, by the looks of it. And he’s in the dining pavilion. He needs- okay, he needs to go. Too many people. He blows Annabeth a (slightly sincere) kiss, flips Percy off, and strides to his cabin. 

And he’s smiling, something that hasn’t happened since he and Will stopped hanging out. He doesn’t want to die, he realizes. He really, really doesn’t. But he needs to. 

Nico sits on his bed, thumbing the blade of his Stygian iron sword. He needs to do it. 

But he doesn’t, instead, he pulls out his phone- yes, he’s aware that they’re not really supposed to have them, but screw it - and his earbuds, and scrolls to a random playlist he made a few months ago, jamming his earbuds in his ears. 

He breathes in, lying on his back, Florence+The Machine loud in his ears. _No light, no light, in your bright blue eyes_ … Nico skips to the next song, but it’s _Here Comes The Sun_ , and that reminds him of Will too, so he skips to the next one, ( _Hurricane Drunk_ ). 

Nico closes his eyes, and doesn’t open them for hours and hours. 

* * *

Percy’s leaning against the wall, a grin spreading on his face. “So, you’re telling me that Leo accidentally ordered a stripper?” Annabeth, scowling, is nodding, and Percy bursts into laughter.

He’s not alone, almost everyone is giggling. It’s Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Lou Ellen, Cecil, Piper, and Mitchell- a random mix of senior campers, sitting in the Poseidon cabin. Will’s the only one laughing, but that’s more because his mind is filled with Nico straddling Percy, laughing, his shirt soaked and clinging to his lean frame. 

Nico straddling Percy, _ugh_. It shouldn’t hurt this much. 

“Girl or boy stripper?” Lou’s asking. Annabeth shrugs. “Girl, probably- it’s Leo.” 

Lou leans back, grinning. Evidently, it’s the answer she hoped for. Jason makes a vaguely disgusted noise, sliding an arm around Piper. “I don’t understand why he couldn’t just Iris-Message us, instead of ordering a stripper named Babycakes to tell us he wasn’t dead.” Piper punches him good-naturedly. 

“It’s _Leo_ , babe, what else would he do?” “Good point.” Jason nods. He frowns a moment later, saying: “Where’s Nico?” Everyone turns to Will, and Will clenches a fist. “Why should I know?” Will snaps. 

Jason gets up, slowly, eyes on Will. _Shit_ \- Jason’s kind of like Nico’s mom. He’s insanely protective, but Piper lays a hand on his bicep, murmuring something soothing, and Jason relents. 

“I’m going to check on him, he’s probably at his cabin,” Jason says, and Percy offers to join him. _Of course_. Will looks down, feigning disinterest. 

* * *

Nico’s resolved to do it. He’s been sitting at the edge of his bed for hours now, the blade poised at his heart. It’s time.

He’s written a note, addressed to Will- if he were good, he wouldn’t have, but he can’t die without Will knowing he’s sorry. He’s sorry but Will makes it so easy to want to be alive. 

The note’s on his nightstand. The knife’s at his heart. He needs to just- Nico inhales, and brings the blade towards himself- just as the door slams open, Percy and Jason tumbling through it. 

Nico’s hand jerks in surprise, going off-target by five centimeters. 

The world blurs, slowly, Jason’s horrified face, Percy yelling, before black swallows him up. 

* * *

It happens so, so, slowly. They hear Percy’s voice; raised, hoarse. He’s serious, something is wrong. Annabeth is standing, looking worried.

Then Jason runs in, face terrified, Nico in his arms. Nico. Nico’s not moving, his shirt looking wet- and then Will realizes it’s bloody. 

Will is standing, crossing the room, his voice high with terror. “What- _shit_.” 

Jason’s voice is broken. “We- we ran in, thinking everything was fine, and then we see that Nico- he stabbed himself. There was a note-” 

And that’s enough. Will holds his arms out. “Give him to me.” 

Jason frowns and Will cuts him off before he can speak. “I said fucking _give him to me._ ” Jason relents Nico and Will takes him, stumbling slightly under his weight. The air is metallic with the smell of Nico’s blood. 

And then Will is running, to the infirmary, running in desperately. Leia’s there, her eyes blown wide with shock. It feels like deja vu, except what if Nico doesn’t wake up this time, what if, what if. 

Everything’s a blur, Will loading him on a stretcher, them taking him to the ER section of the infirmary, to the operating theater. They don’t let Will operate, saying he’s too stressed, but they let Will heal the torn skin of his wound afterwards, hands glowing gold with effort. 

Afterwards, he sees Percy, and then everyone else, camped outside, waiting. Percy has something clutched in his hand, which he turns over to Will. 

“Will. It’s the note- it was addressed to you.” Numbly, Will takes it. He unfolds it, reading. 

_Will,_

_I don’t know how to write this letter. I guess I should say I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m a terrible friend. I’m sorry that I did what I did. (It’s not your fault.)_

_You’ll probably want to know why. The truth is, if anyone could convince me not to, it would be you. But I’m not meant to exist. If Zeus had his way, I would be dead. And I think he was right- Hitler was a son of Hades. Probably a whole lot of other nasties, too._

_Can you think of any hero who happens to be a son of Hades? (I’ll spoil it for you- there are none. Hercules, Jason, Perseus… nobody’s a son of Hades. Honestly, I don’t even know if there are any children of Hades in the myths.)_

_If I know you, you’ll probably be pretty fucking sad. Or something. Don’t be. For one, if you ever die, I can streamline your application for Elysium, since I’ll be down there. You probably won’t need me to (if anyone was bound for Elysium, I think it would be you, and yes, you can tell Percy I said that), but know that I would._

_I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have tried so hard to be friends with me, honestly. But that’s you- you try. You try to make things better. Most of the time, you succeed. But not this time, not if you can’t make it better._

_Love, Nico._

Will’s cheeks are wet, and tears are spattering the paper. “That idiot.” Will hiccups, sniffling. “That absolute _moron_.” He looks up. Jason’s eyes are wet, too. 

“How is he?” Jason asks, and Will starts crying harder. “He’s- he’s not-” 

Percy lets out a low howl of grief, crumpling to the ground. “He’s- he. It missed his heart, but the damage was too severe. He- he passed.” Will’s full-out sobbing now, his shoulders shaking, folding in on himself. 

“He’s dead?” Jason whispers, voice cracking, and Will nods. 

Will sinks to his knees, the paper clutched in his fists. He can’t do anything but cry, he’s _useless_. “I- I tried to operate on him, but they wouldn’t let me,” Will hiccups hopelessly. “I’m so- I’m just,” Will breaks off, another sob racking his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

The ground is shaking, and he hears a distant howl from miles and miles under the earth. Hades is grieving. “He _promised me,_ ” Will whispers, “ _He promised me he would be okay_.”

* * *

Nico stirs slightly, eyelashes fluttering, and Will leans forward, heart in his throat. “Nico?” He asks, softly. “Nico?”

Nico sighs softly, his lips parting, and nuzzles himself further into his pillow. In any other circumstances, Will would laugh, but this is different. Nico’s been out for a day. He knows Nico’s body is in a recovery state, but he can’t help the irrational fear that Nico has entered into a comatose state, and won’t wake up. 

Nico is muttering something, and although Will knows that it’s not exactly a morally reliable thing to do, he leans in to listen, ear at Nico’s lips. 

“Will,” Nico breathes into his ear, and Will leaps back, face flushing. _Shit_ , he thinks, but Nico’s eyes are still closed, his breathing even. 

He’s still asleep. 

Will leans in again, albeit cautiously. “Mercy,” Nico is murmuring, pain in his voice. “Mercy, please.” Will leans back, eyes locked on Nico’s face. It is grimacing, contorted. “Will.” Nico mutters, tossing back and forth, digging deeper into the bed. 

And then he goes still. Will waits, for what feels like hour on end, but Nico doesn’t move again. 

* * *

A soft noise wakes Will up, he’s at Nico’s side, kneeling beside the bed. Nico’s eyes are open, the glittering darkness wide and never-ending. Nico’s eyes- they’re one of Wills favorite parts of him. They’re the exact shade of the night sky, dark and specked with flecks of brightness.

Nico is groaning something, trying to say something, but Will covers his mouth, desperately telling him he needs to try, try to fight. A snippet of a poem snakes into his mind: _Do not go gentle into that good night/Rage, rage, against the dying of the light._

He wants- he doesn’t know what he wants, but he knows this: Will needs Nico to stay alive. But Nico’s eyes are fluttering closed again, he’s murmuring something under his breath, and all Will can do is watch. 

* * *

Nico is murmuring something unintelligible, brow knotting. He’s biting his lower lip, tugging it into his own. Will wants to trace it, wants to feel the softness of Nico’s lips, but he never will, he knows. 

“Will!” Nico says, gasping, and his eyes fly open. Will leaps to his feet, peering into Nico’s face. “Yes?” He says automatically. Nico’s eyes are wide, frozen. 

Nico blinks, slowly, his long lashes dark and lush. He’s gorgeous, even now, his hair dark and luscious, curling around his high cheekbones, the curvature and bones of his face sharp and defined, his nose strong and his lips perfectly shaped. 

“Where am I?” Nico asks, voice hoarse. Will smiles in relief. “You’re in the infirmary.” Nico shakes his head. “But I’m not sick, I’m fine.” 

Will groans. _This._ Honestly. “Nico, you collapsed at breakfast. You weren’t moving. We ran a few tests on you, and you had- you had one of the lowest blood sugar levels I’ve ever seen.” 

Nico looks shifty, his eyes darting everywhere but Will. “Nico, the levels of sugar in your blood- they were impossibly low. You’d have to not eat for _months_ in order to get that sort of blood sugar.” 

Nico says nothing. Frustration mounting, Will leans in closer, forcing Nico to look at him. “If you know something, now is the time to tell me, Nico. Because I am your-” Will breaks off, and starts again. “I am your doctor. I need to make sure you’re okay, and I _don’t know_ what’s going on.” 

“You have the medical experience, not me,” Nico says blandly. “I’m sure your guess is as good as mine.” 

Will throws his hands up. “You’re not a diabetic. As far as I know, you don’t have bulimia or anorexia. I’ve been spending hours researching every obscure, incredibly rare, disorder, and your symptoms don’t align with _any_ of them. _Nico_. Please.” 

Nico’s biting his lip again, looking conflicted, and then screams pierce the air. Nico stiffens. “What’s that?” Will sighed. “That’s a Hecate kid. She’s been hospitalized since the war for war injuries, and she’s…. she was almost ready to be discharged, but for some reason, she’s had a relapse.” Nico is rigid, eyes burning into Will’s. 

“When did this start?” Nico says urgently. “A few hours after we brought you in and stabilized you, why?” 

* * *

_A few hours after we brought you in_. It’s his fault, it’s Nico. He was selfish enough to want an extra day, unlucky enough to collapse. His very presence in the infirmary is _killing_ someone- a girl.

Nico closes his eyes, sending his powers out. He senses a thick wave of potential death. _I’m sorry_ , he says to the unknown girl, _I will make sure you make it to Elysium. I swear it._

“Nico?” Will is saying. “What are you doing?” But Nico is concentrating, sending his powers deeper. _Hades. I haven’t been the best son._ Nico says to his father, his burden. _I know I haven’t been. But this girl is innocent, and deserves Elysium. Please._

There is no response, but Nico knows that Hades can hear him. With effort, he opens his eyes, pulling himself to the surface. 

Will looks on the verge of tears, his skin papery, his eyes rimmed with pink, as if he’s been crying. “I need you to cooperate, Nico. Why are you so sick?” 

Nico knows, but he won’t tell Will. Well, he doesn’t know, but he has a theory. 

Nico is a son of Hades. His powers are life and death, he controls it. And if he happened to decide he didn’t want to live anymore, he might unintentionally turn off the life within himself, drain his life force drastically. 

But Nico doesn’t want to die that way, slow and painful and humiliating. He wants to do it quickly, a quick forceful stab. He reaches into himself, feeling for the life force inside. 

It is weak, tired. Nico furrows his brow, concentrating, clenching figurative fingers around the strings of his fate, his lifeline. He breathes the life back into himself, reversing what he’d done earlier. (It’s not something he would ever be able to do to anyone else, he knows. He’s not a healer, he isn’t Will. All he can do is reverse an action he performed on himself.) 

Nico opens his eyes again, looking at Will. He’s so sincere, he cares. Grief ripples through Nico. _This is the last time I’m seeing him,_ Nico says to himself, bracing himself. 

“If I told you I knew what it was, and that it won’t happen again, would you let me leave?” Nico says after deliberation. He drinks Will in, carving the face into his memory, remembers the sandball fights and arguing; golden, bright, laughter-laden, memories. 

Will looks livid. “You _know_ what this is? Goddamnit, Nico.” 

Nico leans in. He needs to be fair, needs to be smart, but he can’t help himself. He wants to inhale Will’s summery smell- sunlight, honey, baking bread. “What?” 

“When will you start taking care of yourself?” Will asks, quietly. Nico looks down. He can’t meet Will’s eyes. 

“Thank you, Will.” Nico starts, speaking slowly. Softly. “Thanks, really. But I’m fine now. It won’t happen again. It was an accident- I did something I didn’t mean to do. But I know now, and I’ll be fine.” His voice is more gentle than it’s ever been, and Will is looking surprised. 

“Do you hear me? I’ll be fine. I am fine. So. I’m just gonna…” Nico shakes the sheets off, dislodging the IV hooked to his arm. He slides out of bed, slipping his feet into his shoes. Will’s hand snakes out, gripping Nico’s wrist. Nico turns. 

“Just promise me. Promise you’ll be fine.” Will says in a low voice, eyes turned down. “Promise me you’ll be okay.” 

He can’t- it would be a lie. But he has to leave, for the sake of the girl in pain, for the sake of every patient here, so he does what he has to, says _I promise_ , and Will releases him, bowing his head down; a penitent god. 

* * *

He’s so selfish. If he was a good person, he would stab himself as soon as he got back. If, if, if.

But he is bad, he is selfish, so he convinces himself that he just has to avoid human contact, and everyone will be fine. Nico makes for the hill, running through the bristles of the woods. 

The air smells like mint, and he knows Minthe is waiting for him. Dawn is breaking, rose and peach tendrils of light staining the sky like watercolor. 

“Nico,” Minthe says, holding her arms out. She is the only person- dryad - that he can be close to without fear of harm, and so Nico walks into her arms, holds her as tightly as she holds him. 

“How are you?” Minthe asks, eyes dark with worry. He leans against the tree- her tree - and thinks. Clearly, she doesn’t know what he plans to do; he needs to keep it that way. 

“I’m doing better,” Nico says. It’s not a lie- his life force is much stronger than it was yesterday. “I’m just tired.” She nods, and sits next to him, holding him as he drifts off into sleep. 

He has no dreams, of Will or anyone else. He doesn’t know if it’s a relief or a disappointment. 

* * *

Nico wakes to the sound of snapping twigs. He twists (Minthe has dissolved into her tree, most likely in fear of whoever’s approaching) and sees Percy, whooping.

Irritation stings him, and he stands to yell something ( _fuck off_ ) but a gigantic wave of river water slams into him, drenching him head to toe with icy cold liquid. 

“What.” Nico growls. “The. _Actual._ Fuck. Did you just do.” 

Percy is backing away, hands held up, laughing. _Laughing_. “You are going to pay for this, Jackson,” Nico says calmly. Yes, he’s trying to avoid human contact, but Percy’s just dumped fifty gallons of icy sludge on him. He deserves whatever gets him. 

Percy reads his murderous intentions in Nico’s eyes, and takes off running into the woods. Nico sprints after him, dodging trees and pinecones, running until they’re clear out of the woods, running into the dining pavilion- Percy is _fast_ \- and Nico catches up to him, tackling him to the ground. Percy is guffawing, his stupid green eyes bright, and Nico is too, despite himself. 

He holds a hand out, and a bone whips from the ground into his hand. Percy stops laughing. Nico smiles. 

Percy begins struggling, and Nico straddles his hips, pressing him into the ground. (He ignores the sensation of Percy’s hipbones pressing into his thighs, of Percy’s muscles against Nico’s ass). Nico raises the bone. 

Percy begins yelping, crying for mercy, shaking with laughter as Nico hits him with the bone, aiming for his stupid broad shoulders. 

“You. Will. Not. Dump. A. Fucking. River. On. Me. Again.” Nico says in between blows, but Percy is laughing too hard to comply. 

“Asshole,” Nico adds in disgust. He realizes too late that 1) they’re in the dining pavilion, a highly public location, and 2) everyone is watching them, wide-eyed, including Will Solace, but he doesn’t care. 

Or, he does care, but not enough to stop. 

“What did Percy _do_?” A female voice cuts in, and Nico looks up to see a girl with wide gray eyes and a fall of golden hair. 

“Oh, hey, Annabeth.” Nico smiles at her. “Your asshole boyfriend decided to dump a river on my head for no goddamn reason.” 

Annabeth is, predictably, on his side, but Nico relents anyway, getting to his feet. Nico glances at the sun- it’s afternoon, by the looks of it. And he’s in the dining pavilion. He needs- okay, he needs to go. Too many people. He blows Annabeth a (slightly sincere) kiss, flips Percy off, and strides to his cabin. 

And he’s smiling, something that hasn’t happened since he and Will stopped hanging out. He doesn’t want to die, he realizes. He really, really doesn’t. But he needs to. 

Nico sits on his bed, thumbing the blade of his Stygian iron sword. He needs to do it. 

But he doesn’t, instead, he pulls out his phone- yes, he’s aware that they’re not really supposed to have them, but screw it - and his earbuds, and scrolls to a random playlist he made a few months ago, jamming his earbuds in his ears. 

He breathes in, lying on his back, Florence+The Machine loud in his ears. _No light, no light, in your bright blue eyes_ … Nico skips to the next song, but it’s _Here Comes The Sun_ , and that reminds him of Will too, so he skips to the next one, ( _Hurricane Drunk_ ). 

Nico closes his eyes, and doesn’t open them for hours and hours. 

* * *

Percy’s leaning against the wall, a grin spreading on his face. “So, you’re telling me that Leo accidentally ordered a stripper?” Annabeth, scowling, is nodding, and Percy bursts into laughter.

He’s not alone, almost everyone is giggling. It’s Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Lou Ellen, Cecil, Piper, and Mitchell- a random mix of senior campers, sitting in the Poseidon cabin. Will’s the only one laughing, but that’s more because his mind is filled with Nico straddling Percy, laughing, his shirt soaked and clinging to his lean frame. 

Nico straddling Percy, _ugh_. It shouldn’t hurt this much. 

“Girl or boy stripper?” Lou’s asking. Annabeth shrugs. “Girl, probably- it’s Leo.” 

Lou leans back, grinning. Evidently, it’s the answer she hoped for. Jason makes a vaguely disgusted noise, sliding an arm around Piper. “I don’t understand why he couldn’t just Iris-Message us, instead of ordering a stripper named Babycakes to tell us he wasn’t dead.” Piper punches him good-naturedly. 

“It’s _Leo_ , babe, what else would he do?” “Good point.” Jason nods. He frowns a moment later, saying: “Where’s Nico?” Everyone turns to Will, and Will clenches a fist. “Why should I know?” Will snaps. 

Jason gets up, slowly, eyes on Will. _Shit_ \- Jason’s kind of like Nico’s mom. He’s insanely protective, but Piper lays a hand on his bicep, murmuring something soothing, and Jason relents. 

“I’m going to check on him, he’s probably at his cabin,” Jason says, and Percy offers to join him. _Of course_. Will looks down, feigning disinterest. 

* * *

Nico’s resolved to do it. He’s been sitting at the edge of his bed for hours now, the blade poised at his heart. It’s time.

He’s written a note, addressed to Will- if he were good, he wouldn’t have, but he can’t die without Will knowing he’s sorry. He’s sorry but Will makes it so easy to want to be alive. 

The note’s on his nightstand. The knife’s at his heart. He needs to just- Nico inhales, and brings the blade towards himself- just as the door slams open, Percy and Jason tumbling through it. 

Nico’s hand jerks in surprise, going off-target by five centimeters. 

The world blurs, slowly, Jason’s horrified face, Percy yelling, before black swallows him up. 

* * *

It happens so, so, slowly. They hear Percy’s voice; raised, hoarse. He’s serious, something is wrong. Annabeth is standing, looking worried.

Then Jason runs in, face terrified, Nico in his arms. Nico. Nico’s not moving, his shirt looking wet- and then Will realizes it’s bloody. 

Will is standing, crossing the room, his voice high with terror. “What- _shit_.” 

Jason’s voice is broken. “We- we ran in, thinking everything was fine, and then we see that Nico- he stabbed himself. There was a note-” 

And that’s enough. Will holds his arms out. “Give him to me.” 

Jason frowns and Will cuts him off before he can speak. “I said fucking _give him to me._ ” Jason relents Nico and Will takes him, stumbling slightly under his weight. The air is metallic with the smell of Nico’s blood. 

And then Will is running, to the infirmary, running in desperately. Leia’s there, her eyes blown wide with shock. It feels like deja vu, except what if Nico doesn’t wake up this time, what if, what if. 

Everything’s a blur, Will loading him on a stretcher, them taking him to the ER section of the infirmary, to the operating theater. They don’t let Will operate, saying he’s too stressed, but they let Will heal the torn skin of his wound afterwards, hands glowing gold with effort. 

Afterwards, he sees Percy, and then everyone else, camped outside, waiting. Percy has something clutched in his hand, which he turns over to Will. 

“Will. It’s the note- it was addressed to you.” Numbly, Will takes it. He unfolds it, reading. 

_Will,_

_I don’t know how to write this letter. I guess I should say I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m a terrible friend. I’m sorry that I did what I did. (It’s not your fault.)_

_You’ll probably want to know why. The truth is, if anyone could convince me not to, it would be you. But I’m not meant to exist. If Zeus had his way, I would be dead. And I think he was right- Hitler was a son of Hades. Probably a whole lot of other nasties, too._

_Can you think of any hero who happens to be a son of Hades? (I’ll spoil it for you- there are none. Hercules, Jason, Perseus… nobody’s a son of Hades. Honestly, I don’t even know if there are any children of Hades in the myths.)_

_If I know you, you’ll probably be pretty fucking sad. Or something. Don’t be. For one, if you ever die, I can streamline your application for Elysium, since I’ll be down there. You probably won’t need me to (if anyone was bound for Elysium, I think it would be you, and yes, you can tell Percy I said that), but know that I would._

_I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have tried so hard to be friends with me, honestly. But that’s you- you try. You try to make things better. Most of the time, you succeed. But not this time, not if you can’t make it better._

_Love, Nico._

Will’s cheeks are wet, and tears are spattering the paper. “That idiot.” Will hiccups, sniffling. “That absolute _moron_.” He looks up. Jason’s eyes are wet, too. 

“How is he?” Jason asks, and Will starts crying harder. “He’s- he’s not-” 

Percy lets out a low howl of grief, crumpling to the ground. “He’s- he. It missed his heart, but the damage was too severe. He- he passed.” Will’s full-out sobbing now, his shoulders shaking, folding in on himself. 

“He’s dead?” Jason whispers, voice cracking, and Will nods. 

Will sinks to his knees, the paper clutched in his fists. He can’t do anything but cry, he’s _useless_. “I- I tried to operate on him, but they wouldn’t let me,” Will hiccups hopelessly. “I’m so- I’m just,” Will breaks off, another sob racking his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

The ground is shaking, and he hears a distant howl from miles and miles under the earth. Hades is grieving. “He _promised me,_ ” Will whispers, “ _He promised me he would be okay_.”

* * *

They’re crumpled, all of them, in a small grieving pile, all past rivalries forgotten, _everything_ forgotten but Nico. Jason’s sobbing, Percy not too far behind him, and Will- well, Will’s numb

He sobbed the tears out hours ago, and now he just sits. Thinks. Remembers. _Nico_. 

The sandball fights. How everyone saw him as this gloomy, hulking, teenager, but he wasn’t- he was playful, bright. Battered, but not broken. The world had not been kind to him, but he had tried. 

The worst part of it was that Nico wasn’t bad. He’d hated himself so much, and loved others so much, that he’d thought he’d had to kill himself. 

Gods, Will hates using past-tense to describe Nico. Hates it. 

“Do you remember,” Percy hiccups, “How excited Nico was to find out that- _hic_ \- demigods and monsters- _hic_ \- existed? He- he asked me if I was a good surfer-” Percy breaks off, shoulders shaking with sobs. Annabeth begins weeping silently, rubbing Percy’s back. 

“I wasn’t there,” Jason sniffles, “But I remember how sad he was, how he thought no one l-loved him.” Jason begins crying into Piper’s neck. 

“But he was wrong!” Jason continues, wiping his face, “ _I_ loved Nico!” There was a brief moment of confusion, before Jason hastily clarifies that he loves Nico “as a bro”. 

_I loved him too,_ Will wants to say. Can’t. 

There is a pop, a quick sharp sound, and then Hazel Levesque appears, Frank in tow. Her face is wet, sodden, with tears, but her voice, when she speaks, is hard. 

“Tell me how he died.” Hazel snaps, eyes narrowing to chips of icy gold. 

Percy begins talking, and is quickly overcome by sobs. Will stands. It takes nothing out of him to talk- he is too broken to care that people are watching him. 

“He was- he was sad. He thought he, as a child of Hades, was inherently evil. He- he started pulling away from all of us. And then he stabbed himself.” Will states, the words meaningless in his mind. Words. Just words. They mean nothing, how can they, when Nico’s gone. There’s another pop, and Reyna appears, eyes black with fury. 

Hazel makes a low sound, eyes furious. “That idiot. That _moron._ ” 

She sinks to her knees, making low keening sounds. “ _Nico_.” 

* * *

There is blackness. There is dark, and when Nico opens his eyes, he is standing before his father’s throne.

“Father.” Nico says. He doesn’t know what else to say, he can’t say anything else, really. 

Hades leaned forward, dark hair falling in front of his eyes. “What. Were you _thinking_.” 

Nico can’t say he’s surprised. “I was thinking that it was the right thing to do.” 

Hades covers his face. “You thought that because you were _my_ son, you were evil.” 

Nico shrugs. “Sorry.” He’s not scared- he practically lived in the Underworld for a few years of his life. And then- and then Tartarus. Nothing scares him after that. 

“Hitler was a son of Zeus.” Hades says, and Nico stumbles back. 

“I- _what_?” 

Hades makes an impatient sound, pushing his hair back, his black eyes boring into Nico’s. “Hitler was a son of Zeus. Arrogant, misguided. Yes, he was evil. We have him tossed somewhere, I think we had him in Tartarus for fifty years, but in the 90’s, we took him to the Fields Of Punishments- the Furies wanted to test this new torture- anyway, that’s not important. Hitler was not mine.” 

Nico sinks to his knees. Reeling. He can’t think. “Hazel is my child,” Hades continues, eyes soft. “Would you call her evil?” 

Nico shakes his head. “I thought that because she was Pluto’s, that- I don’t know.” 

He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he cannot comprehend the enormity of his mistake. The living world is lost for him- he had it better than most, he can have the run of the Underworld, he could maybe rise to the living world to collect souls or whatever it is that Hades wants Nico to do, but it isn’t enough. 

Nico wants, he realizes, to live. He wants it, he wants it with a desperation that surprises even himself. 

He never wanted to die. He thought it was the right thing to do, but it isn’t, and he needs to come back. 

“ _Di immortales_ ,” Nico whispers. Hades glares. “Now do you realize your mistakes?” 

Sick, Nico looked up. “I- please, Father. Let me return.” 

Hades leans back in his throne, eyes glinting. “My son, it is not that simple. If I could do it that easily, I would. But there are certain laws. Death is governed by me, yes, but an unjust ruler is no ruler. _Sic semper tyrannis._ I cannot send you back so easily.” 

“What about Hazel?” Nico whispers. “ _You_ brought her back, not me.” Hades says. His eyes are gleaming, boring into Nico’s, trying to impart some sort of meaning. 

Nico jerks up. “You mean-” Hades closes his eyes. “I mean nothing, I am sure. Now, I shall take a nap. I’m sure it would not be my fault if something dangerous and potentially illegal happened while I was sleeping.” 

Gratitude rushes through him. Hades is not much of a father, but he is all that Nico has. And he cares. In his way. 

“Thank you, Father.” Nico whispers, and he thinks of life. 

He thinks of tossing a sandball at Will, of the clumpy sand shattering across his face, of the taste of salt and sunlight. 

He thinks of arguing with Will, of curling up with Mrs. O’Leary. 

He thinks of Minthe, and her green eyes, and how she cares about him, a boy she hardly knows. 

He thinks of Percy tossing a river at him. Of beating Percy up. 

Of Jason, of his smile and how much he cares about Nico, how he took Nico in. 

Of Reyna. Her violet eyes and the way she hugged him at the bonfire. Her pain and her generosity. 

He thinks of all the people who care about him. 

He thinks of Will, sliding a wet arm around Nico, fingers pressed against Nico’s back. 

Drawing Nico closer, his perfect face flecked with droplets of water. Sky colored eyes, hair in messy golden curls. _I care about you_ , he’d said once. 

He’s never stopped caring. 

Nico hasn’t, either- he’s just stopped showing it. 

In his mind, Will leans closer, something both nervous and knowing in his eyes. 

Nico closes his eyes. _Will_ , he thinks, and he’s warm. 

Warmer than it is in the Underworld. Nico doesn’t open his eyes, he’s too busy concentrating. 

Warmth is flooding through his veins like sunlight, and Nico realizes he never knew how cold he was. Nico reaches with careful fingers into his life, into the core of him, and fans the flames gently, bringing himself back to life. 

There’s a barrier, something trapping him. He can’t return- but he can. 

“I am Nico di Angelo,” Nico says, power curling in his veins, confidence straightening his spine. 

“I am a son of Hades, god of the Underworld. You think death can trap me?” 

Nico opened his eyes. He was in the dark, but ahead of him, he saw _life_ , he saw the world he wanted and needed, saw Will and Reyna and Jason and everyone, shimmering like an oasis in a desert, and Nico was desperately thirsty. 

“I. _Am._ Death.” Nico whispers, eyes bright, and suddenly he is surrounded by warmth, suddenly it’s summer and heat and sunlight, and suddenly he is on a hill, grass green and springy under his feet. 

Minthe is standing, green eyes rimmed with pink, and she turns to him, eyes wide. 

“Nico,” she whispers. She doesn’t ask questions. She doesn’t demand anything, doesn’t yell at him. Instead, she opens her arms. 

He steps into them, lets her rock him. He did not know her until a few days ago, but it doesn’t matter. She is warm, she smells like mint. 

And she cares. 

* * *

“Your companions grieve your loss,” Minthe said at last, pulling away. “They are in your cabin. You should go.”

Nico nods, already grinning. He can’t _wait_ to see the looks on their faces, so he lets the shadows take him. 

It’s easier now, that he’s died and returned. The shadows cluster and whisper, yes, but they don’t threaten to overcome him. 

He becomes transparent, invisible, and when he opens his eyes, he’s in the Hades cabin. 

Percy, Nico notes with amusement, is sobbing. Jason is too, and Hazel’s there, lying against Frank and crying. Reyna leans against a wall, eyes rimmed with pink. He wonders how the Romans got here so quickly. 

And then he sees Will. 

Will’s in a corner, huddled. His eyes are rimmed with red, too, but he, unlike the others, is alone. Percy has Annabeth, Hazel has Frank, Jason has Piper, and Reyna doesn’t need anyone. 

But Will does. He wraps around himself, burying his golden head in something- it’s Nico’s sweatshirt, Nico realizes. 

Nico’s thinking about materializing next to Will, but then Percy starts telling a story about pre-teen Nico and Mr. D, and Nico realizes he needs to cut into this before things get bad. 

So Nico lets himself pop into existence, saying “If you don’t shut up, Percy, I’ll die again and my second death will have been your fault.” 

* * *

Will stares. He can’t think, can’t do anything but stare. Percy was in the middle of telling some stupid story, and then Nico appeared. Nico.

He looks beautiful, his hair dark against the pale of his skin, his cheekbones high, his eyes dark and thickly framed with sooty eyelashes, his mouth soft and full. 

Will wants to punch him, but Reyna beats him to it. 

She’s at Nico’s side in a flash, eyes narrowed murderously. 

“You have ten seconds to explain, di Angelo, or I’ll murder you and I don’t care if your second death is my fault.” 

Nico smiles, wryly. It’s such a little thing, just a quirk of his mouth, and Will wants to kiss it. Wants to cover Nico’s smooth skin in kisses, wants to kiss the hollow of his throat and the temple of Nico’s body, holy and lost and returned. 

“Well, I’m a son of Hades,” Nico explains, running a hand loosely through his hair. “Basically, I was able to return. And I’m alive now.” 

Jason makes a choking, broken, sound and launches himself at Nico, practically bowling him over. 

Nico’s hands, surprised, rest gently on Jason’s back as Jason sobs. “I thought you were _dead_ -” 

“As did _everyone_ ,” Annabeth shoots, but her gray eyes sparkle. 

“I was dead.” Nico corrects, patting Jason uncertainly. 

Hazel, Frank, Percy, Annabeth, Piper, and even Reyna, take turns hugging him (Percy saying: “You know, I thought it would work. I didn’t want to say it and get everyone’s hopes up, but I was pretty sure if I talked about prepubescent Nico-” and Nico had smacked him). And then only Will’s left. 

Nico eyes him warily as he approaches, mouth parting as he struggles to say something. Anything. 

“If you ever hurt yourself again,” Will tells him, but he can’t finish. Nico is _here_ , and Will can’t be anything other than grateful. Insanely so. 

Nico nods, cautiously. And then Will’s stepping forward and taking Nico in his arms and squeezing, his face buried in Nico’s hair so no one will see him cry. 

Nico smells like mint and dust and cinnamon, like velvet and jasmine. 

Everyone’s leaving, quietly, (Annabeth and Piper tugging Jason and Percy out, who apparently want to “stay and watch”, Hazel and Frank quietly tip-toeing out, Reyna squeezing Nico’s shoulder gently before taking her leave). 

“I missed you,” Will says against Nico’s curls, “I missed you _so_ much. Don’t ever leave me again.” 

Nico’s nodding, rubbing Will’s back gently, whispering sorries and promises. 

“And I can’t believe that you were so _stupid_ ,” Will sniffles finally. “I- Like, who _does_ that? Stupid self-sacrificing idiot.” 

Nico’s mouth is against Will’s neck. He inhales the scent of summer and sunlight and Will. 

He could stretch up, twine his hands around Will’s neck, and press their lips together. 

He could, but he doesn’t. He knows Will doesn’t care for him in that way, and some other day that’ll hurt, but for now he’s so, so, so, grateful to be alive. 

And that’s enough. 

“I thought we agreed,” Nico says against Will’s skin, and Will shivers at the sensation, “That I was dense, but not a complete idiot.” 

And against his heartbeat, Nico feels Will, every-so-slightly, laugh.

* * *

Things settle, eventually. Nico and Will tiptoe around each other at first, tentative and awkward and desperately trying to not be, but then all at once it flurries back to how it was, like how the first dusting of snow is barely anything at all, and then overnight, the rooftops are thick with it.

Soon, it’s as good- better, even - than before. Nico still doesn’t understand _why_ Will would want to be friends with him, still doesn’t like talking or sharing or touching (okay, that he maybe likes more than he’d like to admit), but that’s tempered with _Thank the gods, thank the gods, I’m alive_. 

Or, to rephrase: Nico’s too aware of how precious, how fleeting, their time together is. It’s so much- overflowing with laughter and jibes and inside jokes - but it’s not enough. 

Sometimes, Nico thinks it never will be. 

The way Will touches him- he’s unsure again, treading carefully around Nico at first, but then he forgets his uncertainty, sliding an arm around Nico, leaning against him absentmindedly, fingers gripping Nico’s slim shoulder when he needs to get Nico’s attention. 

And then it’s better than before, Nico losing some of his cautiousness in his relief, his euphoria. Will forces Nico to eat, saying things like: _Well, after last time, you seriously can’t expect me to let you off the hook. Eat._ Nico would grumble, but eating was easier with Will around. 

Will’s laughably terrible at swordfighting, but Nico insists on teaching him, saying: _If you’re going to force me to eat, I’m going to force you to fight. You need to learn, anyway._ And then Nico would disarm him with a flick of a sword. 

(When Nico does this, shoulders sharp in a black shirt, eyes glinting and confident, a sweep of hair falling, curling perfectly around his temples, Will loses his breath and has to bite his lip, hard enough to draw blood, avert his eyes for a second. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t and Will has to sit down for a moment, claiming heat exhaustion.) 

Early on, Will had discovered Nico’s love of coffee ( _I’m an Italian. Espresso runs in my veins_ ), and woke him in the mornings with a cup. The smell woke Nico better than anything, and he would sit up, eyes focusing with singleminded desperation on the steaming cup. 

(Which was good, because if Nico paused, yawned, snuggled deeper within the warmth of his sheets, Will might not be able to control himself). 

* * *

“Oh my gods, you’ve never had a Twinkie?” Nico gasps when Will makes a remark about junk food, and promptly slips his hand into Will’s, shadow-traveling them to the nearest 7-Eleven. 

Will, too dazed at the feel of Nico’s hand in his, neglects to berate Nico for the shadow-travel, and then Nico buys Will a box of Twinkies, eyes glittering. 

“Look at the _ingredients_ , Nico. Can’t you see you’re literally eating trash-” Will starts, but then Nico, nimble fingers tearing the plastic open, shoves the Twinkie in Will’s mouth, grinning. 

Will breaks off, focusing on the Twinkie. “Ohmrghmm…” Will moans through the Twinkie, leaning against the wall. 

Snorting, Nico tears another Twinkie open, white teeth sinking into the yellow sponge. 

How did Nico manage to eat so _elegantly_? Full lips closing slowly around the Twinkie, the bob of his throat. 

Will swallows, the night air cool on his suddenly flushed face. “Okay, so they’re delicious. They’re still unhealthy.” Will says, trying to distract himself. 

Nico makes a disbelieving sound and tosses Will another. He accepts. 

* * *

Will is a healer. He’s trained to recognize the little things, the minute symptoms, factor them in.

Nico doesn’t like the color green. Can’t stand it. 

It reminds him of Bianca. 

Of the olive-green cap he has in his nightstand. 

(The night Will realizes this, he throws away all his green clothes, the camo shirt from Michael, the green socks from soccer, the shirt he has from when he worked at WholeFoods. He burns them, because it feels right. He watches them go up in smoke, and thinks.) 

Nico can’t be in closed spaces. It goes deeper than some mild case of claustrophobia- he can’t be in closed spaces. 

(The jar, the laughter, the seeds.) 

When Percy gets a car, an adorably small Mini Cooper, Nico can’t go in. 

Will watches him, the way his fists clench, his breathing seizes up. The look in his eyes- terror. And he herds Nico away, distracting him with something about how yellow is an extremely underrated color. 

Nico hates pomegranate seeds. When some appeared in the salad bar, Nico had taken one look and walked away, setting his tray at their table and closing his eyes, burying his head in his arms. Will had hurried over, rubbing soothing circles on Nico’s spine, but it was no good. He’d lost that day, lost to the demons that haunted Nico sometimes, that took Nico in their teeth and would not let go. 

(But Will won’t let go, either. He swears it, on the Styx, on everything that has ever mattered to him. A truth as permanent and enduring as the way Will needs Nico, the way Nico needs Will.) 

* * *

“I feel like this is kind of exactly what happened in real life, besides the Hera part,” Will says, peering at the screen. It’s nighttime and they’re in Nico’s cabin, watching the animated _Hercules_ on a laptop (borrowed from the Stoll brothers), because Nico finds Disney’s version of Hades funny.

Nico hums his agreement, wrapping arms around himself. It’s perpetually cool in the Hades cabin. Sun doesn’t warm the obsidian. Sun doesn’t touch the obsidian, honestly, too afraid of the darkness. 

Hercules finishes his song and heads off, astride Pegasus. “Reyna met the actual Pegasus once,” Nico says absently. 

Will looks interested. “What-” Will starts, but breaks off as he catches Nico shivering. “You’re cold!” Will exclaims, and as Nico turns, raising a brow, Will scoots behind him, wrapping blanket-clad arms around Nico’s shoulders. 

Nico stiffens. 

Nico’s between Will’s crossed legs, practically sitting on his lap, his back against Will’s chest. 

It’s _cuddling_ , almost, but Nico closes his eyes, thinking _Will does not feel that way. It isn’t cuddling if it’s not mutual, idiot,_ and manages to keep the blush spreading on his cheeks from getting out of control. 

“Are you warm enough?” Will asks, voice trembling, too loud. His lips move against the nape of Nico’s neck, warm against his skin. 

Nico nods. He doesn’t trust himself too speak. Will inhales, shakily. 

“Good.” Will whispers, and both boys pretend to devote themselves to the movie, to the characters moving on the wavering screen. 

Nico settles deeper into the warmth of Will, who’s leaning against the wood of the bunk. He isn’t following the plotline, he’s too busy inhaling the smell of Will’s skin, cataloguing the feel of Will’s arms, wrapped around him. 

Nico closes his eyes, pressing the details into his memory: how Will smells like coconut and deliciously warm sunlight, how his lips feel soft against Nico’s neck, how his forearms are dusted with motes of soft golden hair. 

_This is fine, I’m fine_ , Nico tells himself, as Will shivers around him and holds him tighter, nuzzling into Nico’s neck. 

(Will inhales, courage and fear igniting in his veins, charring his blood with their fervor, and he wraps arms around Nico. Nico is stiff and Will goes clammy with fear, but then Nico relaxes against him, slowly leaning against Will’s chest, and Will’s heart thunders. Nico’s smell of jasmine and vanilla and velvet and the nighttime, Nico’s warmth. 

He wants to lay in bed with Nico, tangling their legs together, wants to press his lips everywhere on Nico’s soft, soft, skin. Will wants Nico curled around him, sleeping. Will wants to make Nico gasp, arch, against him in pleasure, wants to kiss Nico slowly, deeply, Nico straddling his lap. 

He wants so many things and he may never get them but maybe this is good enough, close enough. And if this is the only time Nico is in his arms, he will take it and be grateful, if not happy.) 

The next morning, Will wakes before the sun rises. 

They fell asleep holding each other on the floor of the Hades cabin, the laptop whirring, and Will picks Nico up, setting him in his bed and folding the crisp soft sheets around him. 

He wants to lay with Nico so badly it hurts, but he confines himself to the other bunk. He doesn’t fall back asleep again. 

* * *

“You need color in your wardrobe, Nic.” Will states. They’ve been redecorating the Hades cabin, tearing down the Dracula-esque draperies and odd furnishings, painting the walls cleanly, scrubbing the windows, replacing the death-centric art with more modern death-centric art.

Nico laughs from where he’s slumped (on his bunk, an arm flung over his eyes). “Nice try, but no.” 

Will glances at him. He’s wearing a holey black t-shirt with some 80’s band name stamped on it, beat up black Converse, and skinny jeans (black). 

He seriously needs some color in his wardrobe. 

“I’m not saying you need to wear neon pink, Nic. Just some tasteful accents of color. A scarf? A hat?” 

“It’s summer, Will. I will not be wearing a scarf.” Nico says. 

Will throws his hands up. “There are a world of colors! Red! Orange! Yellow! Tan! Blue! Purple! Indigo! Beige! Caramel! Pink! Lavender! Even white!” 

(He carefully doesn’t mention green). 

“Still no.” 

Will closes his eyes. “If you let me take you shopping, and you _wear_ the things we get, both of us will eat whatever disgusting junk food you want. For a week.” 

Nico sits up. “A month.” 

“A week and a half.” 

“Four weeks.” 

“That’s a month, idiot.” 

Nico grins. “I know, but I hoped you didn’t.” Will stares at him. “You think I don’t know how many weeks are in a month?” 

Nico shrugs, and Will throws a pillow at him. Which, of course, leads to a pillow fight (Nico winning, and Will choking: “Two and a half weeks!”) 

Three weeks is what they compromise on, and Will calls Piper to help them add color to Nico’s wardrobe. She may not be your typical fashion-crazy child of Aphrodite, but she’s practically wetting herself in excitement. 

Haranguing Nico into wearing some colors, Will suspects, is something they’ve all wanted to do, for quite some time. 

Nico shadow-travels them to the nearest shopping mall, rolling his eyes when Will objects. From his pocket, he pulls a gleaming Lotus Casino black card, and Piper’s lips split in a grin. 

Nico has sense enough to look scared. 

* * *

By the end of the day they have two shirts, a scarf, and a jacket (leather, and it’s brown, which Nico insists isn’t black).

Will counts it as a victory. And, yes, one of the shirts is a navy henley, which is so close to black that Will almost says it doesn’t count, but Nico looks so good in it that Will swallows his complaints (the other shirt is red and white striped- an unbelievable win in the color department). 

Nico looks exhausted. “I’ve been through Tartarus,” Nico states, running a hand through his hair, “And this mall is almost as bad.” 

Piper laughs. “We could get pretzels.” There’s a general chorus of agreement, and Nico buys them all pretzels from the Wetzel’s Pretzels stall. 

Nico devours his pretzel, white teeth tearing into the chewy, salty, bread. He stretches, and reaches for Piper’s hand, gripping Will’s shoulder with the other. There’s a blur, and then Will’s tumbling to the grass in Camp Half-Blood. 

Nico scowls around them, sensing the stares of curious campers (mainly directed at the shopping bags). “I refuse to step outside of my cabin again.” Nico says flatly, and takes off in the direction of the Hades cabin. 

Piper exchanges a high-five with Will, eyes glinting strangely as she looks between him and Nico, and unsheathes Katoptris, spinning it idly. 

Will waves goodbye and heads after Nico. 

* * *

That night, Hades speaks to him. Nico dreams of wildflowers, of yellow buttercups blooming with abandon across a green valley, and then they wither, one by one, wilting into the earth.

Nico looks up, and then Hades is there, lounging across a black throne. “Nico,” Hades says. He looks exhausted. “You cannot cheat death so easily.” 

Nico feels a spike of fear. Hades is here to take him back, and he’ll never see Will again. (Unless Will dies. But Nico doesn’t want to think about that.) 

“I was foolish.” Hades says. “Thanatos wants your blood.” 

Nico scowls. “Didn’t Thanatos make an exception for…” Nico trails off. He doesn’t want to say it aloud and risk Zeus’s wrath, risk Hazel’s death. 

Hades regards him. “I cannot keep pardoning my children from death.” 

“It would make sense,” Nico points out. “Percy can control water, Jason can control the winds… it would make sense if I could control the Underworld, avoid death.” 

Hades shakes his head. “No one can cheat death.” 

Nico clenches his hands into fists, feeling his nails cut into his palms. 

“So you’re here to take me back?” 

Hades looks down. “You should not have done what you did. The gods are feeling lenient in the regards your mistakes. Thanatos is not so inclined.” 

“So you’re saying my problem is Thanatos. Why hasn’t he found me yet?” 

Hades smirks. “I have been making it difficult for him to track you.” 

Nico swallows. “Thank you, Father.” 

He considers. “Is there a way for me to avoid Thanatos?” 

Hades sighs. “I do not know. Every god has a weakness, but Thanatos is more wily than most, shrouded in mystery. As befits a god of death, of course.” 

Nico chews his lip, squeezing his fists. “How long do I have before he finds me?” 

Hades leans forward. “A week, a month. I don’t know, but be on your guard.” 

Nico tries to say something, but darkness is eating the meadow, the valley, swallowing it in huge gulps, and Hades’s eyes are widening, and then he’s in his bed, his palms running with blood where his nails cut into them. 

* * *

Nico cleans the blood off his palms, bandaging them as best he can. _Will’s going to freak out,_ Nico thinks, and then wonders at how fond the thought makes him. 

Thanatos wants him. There has to be some way to avoid him. _Every god has a weakness_. 

In a daze, Nico strides to the shower. There’s something snarky in him that says _Thanatos isn’t going to come for me in the fucking shower_ , and whether that’s true or not, he manages to shower in peace, sliding the bar of soap (vanilla and jasmine, he should hate it and use something ‘manly’ instead, but he likes the way it smells, so screw it). 

He’s aware that he’s almost never up this early. But there’s something about being aware that the Greek god of death may come and reap your soul at any moment that makes a guy want to wake up, seize the day. 

“Carpe fucking diem.” Nico grumbles, twisting the shower knob off. He glances around. The Hades cabin bathroom, all in all, isn’t bad. 

Yes, the toilet is black, and yes, the fixtures are polished silver, but the shower is huge and walled with glass, and the walls aren’t black, which is a nice change of pace. 

Nico towels off, rubbing his hair vigorously. It curls damply around his temples. He looks in the mirror. It’s not him he sees, it’s Bianca, it’s Maria, it’s Hades. Sister and mother and father swirl in him. _Who will you be?_

There’s a knocking at the door, and Nico groans, stepping hurriedly back into his old flannel pajama pants and poking his head out of the bathroom. 

The door swings open, Will behind it, carrying a cup of coffee. 

Will’s eyes widen as he sees Nico, and he almost spills the coffee on the floor. 

* * *

__  
Nico steps out of the bathroom, in nothing but raggedy old plaid pants slung low around his waist, low enough that Will can see the V of his hipbones.

Nico, hair damp, the scent of vanilla and jasmine unfurling in the air. 

It’s suddenly very warm, almost unbearably so. But maybe that’s just the steam. 

Droplets of water rolling down Nico’s shoulders, his lean torso. His smooth skin, slashed here and there with thin, silvery, scars from old battles. Nico’s stomach, smooth and hard, a faint, soft, line of hairs leading beneath the sweatpants. 

Will coughs in an effort to disguise the whimper he’s sure came from his mouth. 

Nico eyes him suspiciously. “What?” 

Will flushes. “Huh?” 

“You’re staring.” Nico says, flatly. 

Will plays it off. “I’m staring because I’ve never seen you up earlier than nine o’clock, voluntarily.” Nico’s face falls, and for a moment Will wonders if he did something wrong. 

* * *

“Yeah, well…” Nico sighs, wondering how to explain this. _So you know how I tried to kill myself? And then it worked? But then we thought that I got a second chance? Turns out things are a little complicated._

Will moves closer to him, setting the coffee down, carefully, on Nico’s nightstand. 

Nico runs a hand through his hair. “Hades talked to me last night.” Nico says matter-of-factly. Will’s face pales 

“Does he need you back? Are the other gods upset?” Will asks. 

Nico grimaces. “Not exactly. But sort of. None of the other gods really care, which is good. But. Um. Thanatos does, and he’s been trying to get me. He hasn’t yet, because Fa- because Hades hasn’t let him. He’s strong, though.” 

Will is white with fear, shock. Nico, gone, when Will just got him back. 

Nico is trying to smile. “It’s not so bad,” Nico starts, but Will interrupts him, his words clipped with barely controlled fury. 

“It’s _not so bad_? Nico, you _died_. You were fucking _dead_.” Nico is silent; Will barely ever curses. 

“You need to understand that we _care about you_ , and you need to start caring about yourself, goddammit. _You can’t let yourself die_ , hear me?” Will is shouting now. 

Nico’s face twists. “You think I don’t want to live? You think I don’t want to stay at camp, with- with you and- I don’t want to die, Will.” Nico’s voice breaks. “Can’t you see?” 

It’s the way his voice cracks, the way his face twists- painfully, in an effort to keep emotion from showing - that spurs Will. 

Before Nico can blink, Will is standing in front of him, wrapping Nico in his arms. Nico goes loose immediately, relaxing into Will’s touch, and too late Will realizes that Nico’s shirtless. 

Nico is quiet, face buried in Will’s shirt, hands fluttering ineffectually at his sides and then tentatively spanning Will’s waist. Will inhales the smell of Nico. 

“You’re not going to die, Nic. I won’t let you,” Will breathes into Nico’s hair. 

They’re pressed up against each other, Will’s hands gripping the smooth, scarred, skin of Nico’s back, and Nico’s next words feel like a surrender. 

“You can’t promise that, Will. You _know_ you can’t.” 

“I _can_. You don’t know how much you mean to- I _won’t let you die_.” Will flushes as he runs over what he’s almost said, what he _has_ said. 

Slowly, Nico raises his head, eyes staring at Will through his long, thick, lashes. Will swallows. His mouth is inches, _inches_ away from Nico’s- he’s never gotten this close before, Nico has never let him. 

There’s a sound, the stammer of footsteps. “Nico- oh.” Will stiffens and turns, blocking Nico’s bare torso with his body- he knows he doesn’t need to, but he doesn’t want them looking at his Nico- not _his_ Nico, he reminds himself. 

Jason Grace stands there, blue eyes abashed. “Um. I- I’ll just- I’ll just go?” 

Nico lets out a loud groan, and turns, striding back into the bathroom. There is a decisive slam, and Jason visibly jumps at the sound. 

Will knows his cheeks are faintly pink, but his voice, when he speaks, is flat. 

“What do you want, Jason?” 

Jason looks nervous. “It’s just- there’s an invasion of dead corpses coming up on Half-Blood Hill?” Jason says- and although Will is sure he’d deny it later, there is a definite _squeak_ to his voice. 

“And you thought Nico would be able to handle it.” Will finishes for him. He feels tired, bone-weary. 

Jason smirks. “We could have handled it-” Will snorts “-But we thought Nico might know what’s going on. Twenty dead corpses don’t just storm a demigod stronghold for no reason.” 

There is a soft _snick_ of an opening door, and Will turns to see Nico, face expressionless. He’s put a shirt on, a soft, black, one, and he looks deliciously rumpled and soft but the set of his features is hard, blank. 

“I know what they’re here for, Jason.” Nico says. Will moves for him, reaching out, but Nico turns away from him, avoiding him. 

“Nico, no.” Will breathes- he knows, or thinks he knows, what Nico is aiming to do. 

“ _Don’t_ tell me what to do, Will.” Nico says quietly, and with that, walks out of the Hades cabin.

* * *

_Shit_ , Will thinks. Jason is standing there, a bemused look on his face, hands fluttering aimlessly at his sides. “Um. What just happened? Did I- what did I- did I just walk in on you and Nico- I mean, that’s _great_ , I’m so happy for you guys…” Jason trails off.

Will coughs. “ _Not_ what you’re thinking, Jason.” He looks around, frantically- did Nico at least bring his sword? That _idiot_. 

Will grabbed Nico’s sword and darted out of the cabin door, Jason’s voice following him. “Really? ‘Cause it looked pretty-” 

“Jason, I really don’t have time to explain, because Nico’s _life_ is in danger, okay?” 

Jason’s eyes widen. “From those revenants? Nah, Nico can handle them. I know you’re super protective of him or whatever, but Nico-” 

Will shoots him a glare. They’re running, Jason following Will following Nico, to Half-Blood Hill. Nico’s almost there, his slim, black-clad, frame stalking up the hill. Will pales as he sees the twenty corpses. 

They’re bloated, the color of a fish’s underbelly, blood leaking from various places. Unbidden, the image of Nico shirtless, his skin warm and smooth and fucking _beautiful_ , comes to his mind, and Will forces it away. 

“Trust me when I say, _he is in danger_.” Will interrupts through clenched teeth. 

He doesn’t stop to see Jason’s reaction before taking off, sprinting in Nico’s direction. 

“Nico,” Will says breathlessly, but Nico has reached the corpses, and his face is still and cold. Nico holds up a hand. _Don’t_. 

“Lord Nico,” One of the corpses slurs, a bloated, strawberry-red, tongue wagging from his mouth. Nico grimaces, and inclines his head. 

“Thanatos _wants_ you,” Another one continues. She isn’t as decayed, her skin was still tight and pale around her bones, her eyes bright and green. The only sign of her death is the gunshot wound, leaking gore on her white-blonde hair. 

“Thanatos _needs_ you.” The first one sings, spinning slightly. 

“Thanatos _lusts_ for your _blood_.” They say as one, listing slightly. 

Nico is very still. “Thanatos can’t _have_ his bl-” Will says fiercely, but Nico whirls, shooting him a glare, and Will stops. 

“Tell Thanatos that if he wants me, he can come get me himself.” Nico says eventually, spine straight and steely. 

A revenant, the girl with pale hair, comes towards him, eyes dead, yet alive with malice. Her hands are on her belt, pulling out a short, sharp, blade, and Nico laughs, bell-like. _Laughs_. 

“If you think that you can harm me, revenant, you are mistaken.” Nico says, and his voice is cold and brutal and terrible. 

And then. Nico holds a hand out, almost negligently, eyes narrowing slightly, and the girl pauses, a pale hand flying to her throat. “What-” The girl whispers, and then she falls, eyes blank, to the wet earth as Will watches, eyes wide. 

“Nico,” Will whispers, but Nico’s voice rises over his. “Do you see?” Nico growls, eyes burning, _burning_ , “You cannot harm me.” 

Will reaches for him, but Nico pulls away, striding closer to the revenants, a hand gripping Thalia’s Tree. 

Nico’s eyes are practically slits now. Shadows are gathering behind him, cloaking him. 

“I am a son of _Hades_.” Nico whispers, face twisting, and the revenants collapse, one after another, a domino-topple of corpses, of stinking, reeking, flesh. 

Nico’s face is contorted; he makes a disgusted sound and the bodies _sank_ into the earth. 

“Nico.” Will says, and this time, Nico doesn’t push him away. Will is still holding Nico’s sword, and silently, he hands it to Nico. 

Jason is coming behind him, his face stunned, looking handsome and shocked. 

Suddenly, Nico is shaking, shoulders stiff with the effort of keeping it in, his fingers trembling into fists. 

Will reaches for him, trying to calm him, but Nico is vanishing into shadows, bleeding out of existence, leaving. 

“Wait!” Will cries, but Nico is gone. 

* * *

Nico is shaking, trembling. He can’t breathe, can’t think, and of course he’s at the hill, Minthe standing tall and green and sympathetic, but Nico waves her away.

He feels sick, cold. Light-headed, trembly. 

The monster, he knows, is coming. The evil in him, the part that says: _I am a son of Hades_ and kills without a second thought- 

Nico drops to his knees and retches. He heaves bile on the damp grass, stomach seizing painfully. 

The rotting flesh, the stink of it, the berry-colored tongue lolling swollenly from thin, sagging, mouths. 

Nausea rises up in him again, and he coughs. This time, more comes out, and then he’s emptying the contents of his stomach onto the grass. 

He hates it, hates the evidence of his weakness on the grass, so he waves a hand, has the earth close over it, concealing it. 

Minthe drifts closer, hands smoothing his hair. “Let it out,” Minthe coaches quietly, and his stomach seizes again, pain shooting through him. Bile, acidic and sharp. 

There are tears and bile and snot, and it’s messy and Nico wants to be somewhere, anywhere but here. 

Except he doesn’t, because this is Minthe and this is the tree and the hill that comforts him, except Will knows. Will knows where Nico goes when he needs help, Will knows and might come to find him. 

Nico tries to get up, move his shaking limbs, but Minthe frowns. Waving an elegant hand, the bile vanishes from the grass, and she guides him to a sitting position. 

Nico’s stomach is still seizing, but there’s nothing left. There’s just pain and emptiness and the walls are closing in, even though he _knows_ he’s on the hill, there are no walls. 

He knows, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference. He hasn’t had an episode- a really bad one, at least -since Will, but it’s all coming back. Almost a month of pain-free existence, but maybe that was just an illusion, a coat of paint over reality, and reality was dark and sad and cold and you always got down to it in the end, if you scratched hard enough. 

Bianca, Acheron. Percy, sea green eyes and _I promise_ and _I’m so sorry, Nico._ (Percy might be sorry, but Bianca was dead.) 

Dead. Dead. Dead. _So am I_ , Nico thought. It wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn’t entirely the truth. 

Minthe moved, so she was almost on his lap, her hands frantically gripping his shoulders. “Nico, calm down.” 

But he can’t. He’s trapped, and dead, and maybe it’s better he’s dead because _Bianca_. Bianca. Bianca. It always came down to her, in the end. 

Death at his disposal, at the monster’s disposal. (Except the monster was him.) 

_Stop_ , Nico told himself. _We’ve been through this before- you’re not a monster. People- Will - care about you. You can’t do this again._

He’s sorry, he really is, but there’s no way to stop the heaving, the shaking, the trembling. He wants to, he really, really, _really_ , does. He wants to escape this tired old trap, he wants to be fine and _normal_ , he wants to live without the threat of Thanatos but he really can’t. 

He’s shaking so hard and he just wants the earth to crack open, to swallow him whole. And maybe it would actually be best if Thanatos took him, if Thanatos stole his soul and he was gone and at peace. 

(But the thing is, Nico is never going to be free. At peace. If he died, Hades would probably have him helping with the management of the kingdom, or judging souls, and the thought, frankly exhausts him. How bad are things, if he can’t decide which exhausts him more, life or death?) 

Maybe there will never be peace, or anything like it. Not for him. 

* * *

Will knows where Nico is. Where else does Nico go when he’s upset?

Except the thing is, he doesn’t want to go when Jason is staring at him, because he feels like doing so would be betraying Nico. 

He doubts Nico would want _Jason_ knowing where he cries. Or knowing that he cries at all. 

Will coughs. “Jason, man. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but-” 

“Why the hell were they here and what the hell did they want from him and what the hell did they mean by ‘Thanatos wants you’?” Jason fires. 

Will runs a hand through his hair. “Ah, yeah, so. So, I may not be the right person to answer that, and I should probably go find Nico- _alone_.” Will adds when Jason straightens eagerly. 

“Why-” Will cuts Jason off. “Nico doesn’t need a lot of people crowding him right now. And he really wouldn’t want you to know where he is.” 

Jason protests, but Will threatens to go get Piper and Jason shuts up. 

Will sprints, through the woods and the trees. It’s bright out, and Will concentrates on that instead of the fear. 

It rises anyway, suffocating and familiar, but Will doesn’t pay it any attention, and soon he’s broken the line of the trees and he’s on the hill, scanning it for any sign of Nico, and then he hears a choking, gasping, drowning, noise and he sees it- Nico. 

Nico is crying, that’s clear, his shoulders shaking violently, gasping with the effort of not making too much noise. All this, Will is prepared for- he knows how to deal with, he knows what to do. 

What he isn’t prepared for is the girl on Nico’s lap. 

She’s pale, her eyes green and bright and Will feels sick, thinking of Percy Jackson and his green eyes. She’s beautiful. 

She’s a dryad, clearly, and Will realizes that she is most likely the reason Nico comes here when he’s upset. 

“Shh, Nico. Nico. Calm down, Nico.” The dryad is whispering to him, pale hands smoothing his hair, the sweep of his cheekbones. 

Will clears his throat. The dryad’s head whips to him, and then she’s off Nico’s lap, a slim hand wrapping around Will’s wrist and tugging him over. 

“He needs you.” The dryad girl whispers, eyes knowing, and Will is shocked and maybe a little mad, but that doesn’t matter. 

He sinks down. Nico. 

* * *

Minthe gets off his lap, and then there’s a lanky golden weight settling next to him, an arm wrapping around his shoulders.

Nico knows it’s Will. It really doesn’t matter- nothing does. 

(But Will matters. He- he cares so much, as much and maybe more than Minthe.) 

And Will makes it better in a way that Minthe doesn’t, so Nico doesn’t push him away, lets the shudders and the shaking melt away in Will’s heat. 

“You want to talk about it?” Will says, softly, when the shaking is gone. Nico lifts his head, wiping tears away. 

“No.” Nico says. It’s not really true, but it’s better if Will thinks it is. 

Still, he can’t help leaning against Will, settling his head in the curve of Will’s shoulder, and Will goes stiff and then loose all at once, burying his face in Nico’s hair. 

Nico shuts his eyes. Minthe is sitting cross-legged on the other side of him, a hand on his, and Nico lets her twine her fingers with his, squeeze it gently. 

“Thank you.” Nico says to Will after a while. Will nods, and breathes something that Nico can’t make out. 

* * *

Nico is leaning into him, smelling of jasmines and vanilla- it hadn’t even been an hour since he’d gotten out of the shower, Will remembered. It felt like hours, like days.

Nico’s eyes are drifting shut, and then the dryad girl is slipping her hand in Nico’s and Nico is tangling her fingers with his and Will feels sick, _sick_. 

Except Will can’t do anything because Nico needs him and Will needs Nico just as much, maybe more. He’ll get over it, get over his ridiculous crush on Nico. He’ll have to. 

After an eternity, Nico sits up. His hair is mussed, his eyes rimmed with pink from tears, but he looks handsome- no, not handsome, because Nico wasn’t, really. 

Beautiful. Gorgeous. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Will tries to smile, nodding at the dryad. 

Nico smiles faintly. “Will, this is Minthe. She’s my…” Nico trails off. 

Will almost runs. _She’s my…_

Breathe. 

Minthe, though. That name. Nico had breathed it once, before he’d collapsed at the Hades table. Will felt like he might vomit. 

“She’s- it’s complicated. She’s helped me, many times. Minthe, this is Will, my annoyingly sunshine-y, color-obsessed, friend.” Will pretends to be offended, and Nico adds in a softer voice: “You know about him.” 

Will frowns. “What have you been telling people about me?” 

Nico begins flushing, and Minthe looks like she’s trying to hide a smile. 

“Nothing.” Nico says hastily, and Will lets it go, although he’d like to know why Minthe looks like she’s trying not to laugh. 

“Lovely to meet you, Minthe.” Will says instead. 

Minthe shakes his hand, and then Will remembers. “Oh, Jason had questions.” 

Nico groans. 

“And we need to talk,” Will says, quietly. “You’re not planning to actually let Thanatos take you, are you?” 

Nico hesitates. “Um-” He begins, but Will cuts him off. “Nico, you _can’t_. I- _promise me_.” 

Nico holds his gaze. “I promise.” 

* * *

As it turns out, Jason _can_ be useful. As soon as Jason gets wind of the problem, he calls Percy, saying Percy had gotten up close and personal with Thanatos before, and might have some insight.

Now, they hold a brief strategy meeting. Annabeth leads. 

Things don’t look good, Nico has to admit. They don’t know when he might attack, how he might do that, if it’s something they can prevent or if it’ll just manifest in the form of Nico suddenly collapsing. 

“Any juicy personal facts about Thanatos?” Annabeth asks. Percy shakes his head. 

“Maybe you can offer to make Thanatos some action-figures.” Jason offers. Percy begins coughing loudly, and Jason kicks him. 

Nico shakes his head. “Thanatos isn’t vain.” 

“Stab him in the- well, you know?” Percy suggests. Nico shakes his head again. “Thanatos can’t die.” 

“Great.” Percy grouches, but then he lights up. “Maybe you can sic Will on him.” 

Slowly, Nico turns, eyes raking over Will- the hands that hold scalpels, not swords, that heal, not harm. (Will flushes with the force of his gaze.) Just as slowly, he turns back to Percy. 

“Great idea.” Nico says flatly. Percy snorted. “No, like. Because.” Percy pauses to gather his thoughts, and then forges on. 

“If you think about it, Will is pretty much the opposite of Thanatos. He heals, he doesn’t kill. If Will sticks close to you, and then, say, if Thanatos swoops in, Will can use his heal-y powers and get him back.” 

Nico looks skeptical, but Annabeth’s eyes are wide. “You’re a genius!” Annabeth declares, kissing Percy on the cheek. 

“Okay, Annabeth’s gone crazy.” Nico murmurs to Will, and Will laughs. 

Something about it- the huff of breath against his cheek, the way Will smells, like sunshine and sand and sugar, _something_ , makes Nico want to cry. 

If Thanatos succeeds, Nico will never see Will again. 

Fucking _feelings_. Nico tips his head back, inhales air, but they’re in the cabins, not outside, and it feels wrong. Too warm, too close. 

He exhales, and stands, abruptly. Most of them (Percy, Jason, Connor and Travis Stoll) are arguing about action figures, but Annabeth and Will’s eyes are on him. 

“I need to get some air.” Nico grits out, and then flees.


End file.
